The Apologist
Ressentiment

[Naif]

As naive as I’ve always been, I lose my way amongst the din and I give in. The will to try will fade away. I give my life in vain today. I give in. Watch the spine collapse at the first sign of pause. As savages come rushing in they find no flesh worth digging in and I give in. A carrion call for all to see, they gnash their teeth in ecstasy. I give in. Watch the mind collapse, and the body crumble.

Tarp the walls for blood, keep your edge clean. We’ve caught the scent of hunts- now we kill. They’ve pranced in sweetly, and they’ve suckling hide. Now what eager weaklings have stepped, unawares, blindsided?

[Linear Failure]

Nay, nay, set your sights afar. We’ve strayed in wary, but were weary slain. Cries in volumes, bleated strains, caught off guard and untrained.

Now, when the dark was hallowed, they burned the light just to spy the prize from above. And when the stars were bolted just for eyes, you might weep. The prize is no reward.

I’ll concede no hope is won. I’ll concede no opening the only way I’ve known.

I wouldn’t have felt this tired but we’ve run. And god if I had known what we’re in for, I’d hide. The hunt of wills, I thought, would kill me. And which they preyed, I saw myself draped in sheep’s skin, blood crumbs, entrails. So which mark is seized. Which one will faint? I’ll concede no hope if given time.

On high, some kind of word sent down, “give in.” Nay, nay, set your sights afar. We’ve strayed in weary, and were wary slain. Cries in volumes, bleated strains, caught off guard and untrained.

[False Build]

The wandering stranger assaults you with guilt, not with guile.

The spoken word, spurious. It likely wouldn’t push one to sway. With doubtful experience, it plotted us a path that wound back again.

The halls are cavernous and twist the sound as bait. Quickly drawn away, open jaw. Dig the hook inside while we bray.

Now the horns’ blows have carried away and we’re remorseful for the call. When the very life of you is swept away and reverent then what worth have you? The air we breathe is the air we’ll be bellowing. How loud claps the storm? What fury will we swallow away?

[The Apologist]

Bound to kneel. Bound to go awry. Condemned to argue until we die. Bound to feel something more than I. Pulled through stumbling. Can’t you find your way gone?

Thought the bough was able. Thought the height was scale, and the vertigo’s draw would show clemency, not scorn. Plunging comatose. Lost in those dull words.

Bound to feel something more than I. Now we kneel in the breaking light. Respite is fleeting and loss is ours. Let go, now it’s time we fell.

Don’t you walk away. Don’t you walk through a thousand changes. Though the alchemy burns me. I can’t save you, but I would argue.

The morass that we’re swimming in wont let us catch our breath again and now we’re sunk. The tide that we’re drowning in rises past our eyes again and now we’re sunk

Don’t you walk without stones. A lift without a load to pull you over. Don’t you climb without a hold. Don’t you let go. Can’t you see your days encumbered?

The vast is made of parts. The scope just dots, and we all move the path we’ve drawn. But mine… to walk it is an art, defined by the strong. But I’m unclear this day.

[A Functional Tumor]

The visage crumbled, but ignore the wreckage. It’s worth was loaned.

As with mange brought by the flea, as with stares brought by the gangly, we’re all marked by the path of our births. As with mange brought by the flea, like the call of the unclean, we’ve been pulled, and the only direction is down.

The reek of our kin betrays the stain we’ve hid.

I’m the hold. I’m a mark, a lock. I wouldn’t have lost my breath for lack of a cause. Good god, I couldn’t break free in time from the grasps of stragglers. Grounded and shamed, dragged kicking back through the dirt. We’re all marked. Always.

[Whiskey Sipper]

Step back, put your weapons away. I’m going on alone. In time, as your mercy decays, we’re left to dissolve. If I was suffering, I’d cut the ties that were never meant to bind. But I’m so tired now.

So you’re talking in rhyme. The rhythm escapes you. Don’t ask for more. Forgot all your lines, let it erase you. Don’t ask for more.

Applause has the worth of it’s bearer. The cheers will bleed through with the laughter.

Loose with fast hands, and fumbling into a rough noose. I’ve fitted better knots, but not without precious time. For some jobs cheap will do. Stole through weak locks, and often into a den of wolves. I’ve heeded caution some, but often not every time. For some jobs cheap will do.

Step back, put your weapons away. I’m going on alone. In time, as your mercy decays, we’re left to dissolve. Bind my hands. We’ll settle this.

Let the light, let the fire be forged on some higher peak. When you pass me by, let the flaming torch you carry rain down searing.

This chemical let’s me breathe as carefully we plot our wars that never have an ending. The grievances you laid on me, spoken many times before, never were about me.

Loose with fast hands, and fumbling into a rough noose. I’ve fitted better knots, but not without precious time. For some jobs cheap will do. Stole, frequent, through weak locks of passers by, and often into a den of wolves. I’ve heeded caution some, but often not every time. For some jobs cheap will do.

[Underachiever]

One might still sway on one road, a straight course. So what wreck unfolds a jagged knotted pile?

I don’t even know the way. Was the exit sign just a photograph of mine? When we marked the lines, were we all just drunk?

One might creak and shudder away. Just pave the blood to the road.

There’s no blame without records. No malice, no blame if there’s no past.

No malice, no blame, with no past and no memories’ weight. No malice, no blame, with no past and no name. No words, no deeds. Just smoke to cloud and dissolve.

{ The Ladder }

This crowd: a fleshy lake. The throngs as smallish waves, folds like skin upon the sow. A faint din as spit and speech caw- the rank broth that stews while boiled alive.

“Who are you to cast your net so wide, and deepen the maw? Cannibal, your hooks blood deep in hide. This too shall pass. You’ll find yourself at last.”

Couldn’t anyone else have tried to carve their hold? The mark of hands. Couldn’t anyone else have climbed the bones of old? The bridge of man, its steps cobbled stones from sand. One way mirror, cracked and leering, watch us crawl.

A coarse ascension, a vulgar dream dragged kicking back to the floods. A crass intrusion: the eyesore tower was crashed by swarms… a herd of cackles, a school of flesh that scorns the touch.

“The only face that scorns this fate is ours: self same, ripe to faint. Once down, the stench, the taint. So raise the eyesore tower. We’ll raze the rows we felled. When stayed the hand of storms, down poured the fruit of arms.”

{ Salieri }

I’d promised to go, but now that it’s time, the scene of what I’d missed is haunting me through tattered blinds.

“Lift your eyes from above. Let your life flow out.”

Born from resistance, and plagued by irreverence, the burden of a slow memory’s remnants. Awaken in moments and search for the relevance. The instance fades and leaves me no change.

It wouldn’t seem like such a blow if only minds could be renewed as well as bone, if only years could all be hewn as well as stone.

A burst of color and dismay rends a draped malaise which, maligned as it may, still offers up a sanctum’s peace. A cloven hoof crawls for the hobbled. The forked tongue croaks the call of the dumb.

What passes over when heads are steeped, neck deep, in the drolls cast off by the shrugging arms, the wading mass, the sludge so thick all limbs are lamed? Still we waddle all the same. Cast off all my weight.

“So cast your light away. They’ll shine your light out.”

This bleeding erupted from the sores of wasted gods. The tension was broken by bloodied fists and open arms. The meaning destructed in solitude and fits of calm. Residing in daydreams, you’ll only feel it once it’s gone.

One day, and one chance to fail one day. You’ll never screw this again, so take it all the way and dig through your grave.

{ Fool’s Errand }

As it all falls down, and everything burns, the meek have their day. It seems you’ve found your way down. Slip into this void. This longing brought suffering. We speak in bitter tongues.

A stone is the crux of a wall. Its burden lies in weight.

Lowly, we bask in omens, and dream of what reality was. Beholden to a paradise broken, dream of what reality was. Slowly, we bend so slowly. As we descend the walls that seem so sloped call forth my way. We bend so slowly. I won’t stay or carve my name.

You were tied to the weight of this failure. We sink in through reverie.

In quiet moments I prayed for this day. In weaker moments I rued this day. In desperation I gave way. What would I do to be rid of this? Head down, back to wind, what would I do?

Forget this weight. This day was yours to take, heads down, backs to the wind, beating back the deluge endlessly. We need something to hold as the light fades away

{ Ocean Of Water }

This horizon ties your hands. Pray for mercy as you sink below.

Through the thunder, until the rain falls, we’re alone.

Look at the way she stares. You want to make her suffer. Bury your face in sand. Keep it smothered. Hurry, avert your eyes and hold them still. Dig deep your lines. Stop your breathing.

No words, only sound. Slow steps. Heed no one. No heat, only shrouds.

The elders sway. The cowards fall. They couldn’t find a way. No hope or fear of floating. No one for you to know. They couldn’t find a way.

Through the thunder, until the rain falls, we’re alone. Through the sandstorm, until the soil floods we’re as bone. I’m an island. I built my wall’s stone too tall. Wait upon your shore. Maybe there sails an escape for you.

So you race to the end, and then you hurtle towards another one. So you pray for the wind. Then you race to the end. I’m through counting.

{ Fleshmaker }

A mirthsome gold; these lives you hold you’ll hide away. The lidless casket, the guilded lining, shines in the old light, gleams in the muted bay. These lines have been etched in bone, carved and faded, stretched as taut as stone. Draped across the moonlit base, a mirrorbed reflects the faces bright in the moment, wide and awake with fright. Seared by the scorchlight, lives are worth we’ll trade.

We couldn’t cower too quickly. We couldn’t bear to brave the gaze of the end. And when the creep of flames engulf the all, you’ll swallow them whole. You’ll intake this bile, and you’ll reap what I’ve soiled, what you’ve sown. So have the stilted grown.

Bury me in all the filth and shame, and all the moments filled with them. It’s all the same. I’ll give it away. I’ll taint my flesh and you’ve naught but hell to taste. Tear it away. The rot is palpable. The waft escapes.

The bread we broke sustaining you. The blood, you choked, the draining flu. No sign that anyone knew. Gods you hunger, so tear us wide and eat your fill.

You look so tired. I couldn’t save for you some raw meat. Your limbs are wires, but all I have for you is thawed. You’ll get your means. You’ve earned these seeds. Now when you salivate you’ll bleed. Drawn to the stench of plebes who dulled their sheen to match a hope we couldn’t feel.

This is all we are: a listless gold, the lifeless old, frail in the moment, scared as the eyes reveal their sheen. Be careful what you hold. The flesh has turned, your wretch was earned. Bright in the moment, wide and awake with fright, seared by the scorchlight, our lives are worth we trade.

{ A Long Defeat }

“Scribe quickly your name, and stay to the right. Your script is curved. It’s inclination hooks and spurts as if rushed to the end. We’ll see… This is only a glimpse. Still, you’ve kept your head down. Where are you hiding? And are you weak? Are you afraid? Did you creep each step aghast, skirting shadows, or is it what I seek?”

You called to pound the door with pointed hand, but we would burn the house. We barred the doors with guilt and bone, still we might burn the house. We would burn this house of ill regard. Cathedral eyes were sewn to bind. You won’t storm the house. We would burn the house. My temple, I’ve mortared lock and key alike. All’s buried, naught to find.

What am I now, torn in two? The illusion of me becomes and confronts you. What am I, split in two? What’s left of me will retreat from this empty knowledge. We’ll weed out what we don’t know.

I’ve cut my loss and severed a thought from mind. It plummets like a stone, and glaring back from depths to heights, will torch the night. Retreat from this empty knowledge. Weed out what we don’t know. Retreat from this broken logic. Lost in what we do not know, we’ll weed out what we don’t know.

The road that lay forward was paved with my fears. I tore at the open floor. I scurried away, and down. Call out to the open floor. Call out to the words that bind us whole. Call out from the weighted floor. Call out to the guards before us all. Call out to the way.

The wound was cauterized. Burn my way and throw me off to the gate. Come fire. Come flame. Come home. Burn my way. These days were a waste. Come fire. Come flame. The weight of a sin’s thick fog. Come fire. Come flame. Burn my way. And after all these words I couldn’t break away from its hold. Weed out what we don’t know.

Shadows are fading. The burnt walls are crumbling. The old guard is changing. We won’t look down, where we’ve aimed for. Not before my eyes, but hidden behind my back, and grasped with blood in claw. My soul possessions are scant. Withdraw your hands. I’ve set my share alight.

What’s beneath this? The husk is wrapped; its form flawed. We’ll pry the fingers back each bone from bone, all ashen, crumbled away. False. The rest is soot and blown off. We won’t wait. Fall. What we’ve come digging for is dead and cold. We couldn’t wait for the beatings.

{ Handshake In Your Mouth }

The distant mock of warmth: an aftertaste of the bodies’ greeting collision. You’ll never feel that again.

I thought I saw a rising tide dissolving the streets, and leaving blank shores. I strained to hear the distant waves encroaching, eroding wood and home.

I can’t recall the sound of footsteps, the scent of skin. It washed away with the taste of ashes. I grind my teeth but it’s gone.

As we walk, we’ll pass through the last of night, sick with dust and smiles. The mock of warmth: you’ll never feel that again.

{ Beasteater }

Built on high, the scaffold’s walls are hinged to the fold. The step slopes downward for none. Their aims ran steep. So where, then, must you have tryst? A crane of the neck- your crooked eyes rose to rest where the loft hung.

The weight you’ve sweat here will not lighten your load. It gnaws on fragments of your tired soul. Your line: an arc for progress. Your sky: a roof. Your gate is closed. The way for you is plowed. The cart you pull is culled from your bones.

In darkness ashes coat your lungs. In silence there is only defeat. Wisdom to you now is but a burden. The breeze that broke you came from your throat.

No ire can keep burning. No wrath is wrought by the lowly. A slow step and you’ve only to wait until, claws bent, mind fogging, the next wind will topple you wholly. Cold mire, deep sopping… climb up and pull your load.

The waves all broke, and sovereigns tend the falls. The tide broke, a cloven splash, and sovereigns tend the falls as if rising again and again to be chopped at the knees was a gift.

The impetus will fade with dusk. You sorrel nag, your coat is blood and rust.