An Assassin’s Lament

Love poems are always stuffed

Full of “Bloody” Romantic Melodrama
That is so nauseating
To the extent where the erotic touch wanes
Whereupon the romance suddenly
Transforms into something wretched-
Utter Vermin

How do I love? 

With this murderous streak thundering through my mind
Its an uncontrollable desire that overtakes
And asserts its indomitable will
Murder satiates
Its my gory output 
That has no sensual overtones
Though, that same tingle of warmth
Coils around my nerves
When I hear that pained groan
Attempting to escape their body’s
Ultimate submission into death-
That scream:-
-Oh, that woeful, plaintive scream-
It sounds like my cold spirit 
Solemnly singing its sonorous song
Sometimes tears tear through the eye’s protective barrier
It threatens to break my terrifying facade
That wears the face of Macbeth
Whom relished the deaths
Though his spirit ranted and raved:
“Why have I done this?”

His gracious lady wore the indelible mark of his guilt

Red Blood of the despots he killed-
This same paint corrodes my soul
Luscious, red blood covers that 
Unknown essence deep within this material body:
The wretched thing we title the 
Vessel, the cage
Where life inexplicably was entrapped in from birth
As my dead victim,
Lies cradled in my arm
With blood permeating my hands
In the style of Lady Macbeth
I witness the damned sign
Of my Future form
Every-time I cruelly murder a life,
I see my death right before my eyes
Yet escape it all the same
I lament that I can no longer process
This burdensome phenomenon
Oh, the paradox of existence
How can we be living with abundant meaning
Only to sink away into the black waters
Of a Meaningless Demise
I don’t care if these people die because
They’ve vanished
Poof! Their mark upon the world is not permanent
Unless they had profound notoriety
Otherwise, they sink away slowly
To the pulsing rhythm of this dying world 
Which slowly vanishes from the sight of 
No living soul  who would have died
 Before the sun extinguishes its light
If only, I had the spiritual eyes
To discern past this oblivion and 
See something far beyond
The nothingness to find
That something tucked 
Beneath the dreaded veil of death 
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