Emil De Leon
08/16/09, 02:55 PM
Clouds opaque the night’s sky,
What’s the cure for insomnia?
Bourbon? I won’t lie,
Eight is enough to put me away.
With every breath, a lingering sigh.
Brave steps lead brave thoughts.
Who, then, is responsible for my blight?
God? Are you there? Will you make me stay?
No…You will suffer me…I will not vanish from sight.
Rain falls with such grace,
It almost helps me save face.
My cigarette is put out.
The wind picks up.
My will is firm and stout,
‘Our father, who art in heaven,’
I start reciting; see if He feels the clout,
‘Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,’
I ready myself for the endless bout.
The semi-automatic Luger feels cold,
‘On Earth as it is in heaven…’
“Are you sure it is really like that?”
My inferno freezes over, all sense of human life…
Lost, to the cold, dark night.
“You’ve certainly decided to undertake an interesting plight…”
Her voice…her accent…her smell…
“You have a good chance of going straight to hell
Yet you want to do this under a panic spell,
Face God and fall to the bottom, as others fell
‘Don’t do it, you’ve got your whole life ahead…’”
She chuckles sarcastically, chills blot out my keen view.
The situation darkens,
My mind keeps reciting…
‘Give us this day our daily bread…’
“You’re cold aren’t you? Why wear that cross?
No…shh! Don’t speak, listen.
Listen to me; you are now like gold’s dross,
A mere stain that glistens.
As to why my interest, I am at a loss,
But for interest’s sake,
Arise, as a phoenix from the ashes risen.”
‘And forgive those who trespass against us’
The prayer grows faint in my memory…
“Lead us not into temptation…”
Shit, I said that too loud…
“Temptation, dear sir?
I am no temptress on this cold night, so sordid.
To be human is to err…
As a supporter of life, I’m still ever so morbid…”
Play it cool—I think to myself…
I sip my bourbon…
I put a smoke on my lips, she lights it…
“That will kill you…”
She says while lighting one for herself.
“Finish it. Finish the prayer.”
“But deliver us from evil.”
A sigh and those lips from hell plunge into my own,
A violent kiss from centuries past.
Her hands caress my hair,
I feel her body on mine.
I feel her teeth bite down on my lips…
The hot blood runs cold this night,
My breath is stolen,
My heart is deathly and darkly solemn.
Life drains,
I pull away,
Her piercing green eyes meet mine…
“My name’s Caroline Cresswell, from London originally.”
What’s the cure for insomnia?
Bourbon? I won’t lie,
Eight is enough to put me away.
With every breath, a lingering sigh.
Brave steps lead brave thoughts.
Who, then, is responsible for my blight?
God? Are you there? Will you make me stay?
No…You will suffer me…I will not vanish from sight.
Rain falls with such grace,
It almost helps me save face.
My cigarette is put out.
The wind picks up.
My will is firm and stout,
‘Our father, who art in heaven,’
I start reciting; see if He feels the clout,
‘Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,’
I ready myself for the endless bout.
The semi-automatic Luger feels cold,
‘On Earth as it is in heaven…’
“Are you sure it is really like that?”
My inferno freezes over, all sense of human life…
Lost, to the cold, dark night.
“You’ve certainly decided to undertake an interesting plight…”
Her voice…her accent…her smell…
“You have a good chance of going straight to hell
Yet you want to do this under a panic spell,
Face God and fall to the bottom, as others fell
‘Don’t do it, you’ve got your whole life ahead…’”
She chuckles sarcastically, chills blot out my keen view.
The situation darkens,
My mind keeps reciting…
‘Give us this day our daily bread…’
“You’re cold aren’t you? Why wear that cross?
No…shh! Don’t speak, listen.
Listen to me; you are now like gold’s dross,
A mere stain that glistens.
As to why my interest, I am at a loss,
But for interest’s sake,
Arise, as a phoenix from the ashes risen.”
‘And forgive those who trespass against us’
The prayer grows faint in my memory…
“Lead us not into temptation…”
Shit, I said that too loud…
“Temptation, dear sir?
I am no temptress on this cold night, so sordid.
To be human is to err…
As a supporter of life, I’m still ever so morbid…”
Play it cool—I think to myself…
I sip my bourbon…
I put a smoke on my lips, she lights it…
“That will kill you…”
She says while lighting one for herself.
“Finish it. Finish the prayer.”
“But deliver us from evil.”
A sigh and those lips from hell plunge into my own,
A violent kiss from centuries past.
Her hands caress my hair,
I feel her body on mine.
I feel her teeth bite down on my lips…
The hot blood runs cold this night,
My breath is stolen,
My heart is deathly and darkly solemn.
Life drains,
I pull away,
Her piercing green eyes meet mine…
“My name’s Caroline Cresswell, from London originally.”