ART
2007
T H E - G O D D E S S

Taken for granted. Taken advantage of. Taken too much of my shit and all I've given is my unashamed lack of respect.

Forgive me holy mother, for I have sinned. Again. And again I'm sorry that I've made her cry. But I cannot fix what I can only break. She doesn’t deserve this skull-fuck, but it's all I have to give.

Forgive me father, for I refuse to bow down to your same mistakes. And yes, I know the cons far out weigh the pros, but Christ knows I dread to regress back into my own devices conning me into thinking that I don't want the fucking pros. However, for the love of those few things honest, the bottom it is where I have to go.

Forgive me – is something I do not expect. I have hurt her someplace I can no longer reach. What was once the gold of her halo has now become the rust of my deception. How many lies have I told? How many devils have I indulged? How much I could repent to a higher power would fill a fucking pit. But nothing I could insincerely repent would return the fruit to the branch. And oh, how many trees have I cut down and burned for no more reason other than to punish the fucking sky. This lust easily overwhelms any pity I have left. This greed for their daughters is relentless and I will not get off their fucking back. This revolting lack of sympathy for their meat in that valley of the shadow of debauchery has left me neither here nor hell.

Spinning her once, I lost her hand and felt like so much shit. So I put the beast in its place and walked in the abyss with grinning indifference, just to take the chance to become something I didn’t know I could be. To pay tribute to my queen and to let her hands once again hold mine. Let her hands help mine. Let her hands be mine. My second chance. My fiancée. My alibi. But all the clockwork subtleties of so much distraction couldn’t help but out number the one and only. My better half no longer equal once I found I was whole as an uneven.

But what have I done? How did it come to this? I didn’t want it to end this way. But I knew it was going to. I did this. Watched her divinity get clouded in the tides of my vulgar misdirections and bitter obsessions with little fragments of carnal worthlessness. I let it go. I watched it go. And I wanted more. So I took it. Took advantage of. Took for granted. Until I could no longer tell where all this conceit had left the singular invoked icon of my love.

The goddess, fallen and disgraced. All of her justified anger spilled upon my sheets and beaten against my defenseless back. No retort would counter the extent of her transfiguration. All that once was the hue of her height, is now just a slither against the black of her crescent. Her throne of my arms are so suddenly withdrawn. How quickly the remains of our intimate lucidity has become a paradise lost and damned for ever existing. Her halo now setting on some empty horizon in my hateful heart. Any words I might confess would only condemn this inferno deeper. All her beauty suddenly degenerated to less than death. Yet not so sweet as to see her rot. Oh, to hate her. God, please let me just fucking hate her. But my lack of remorse seems to have the last punchline to my kidney. I see her crying in the corner, but she has no head left for me to hold. Crying in the corner. But her head is gone. What have I done? Her pieces like porcelain in the bath of hollow reliance. Yet why do I suddenly even want to mend what I have so deliberately destroyed? And where the fuck did I put her head, for fuck's sake? I don’t even know the true extent what I've finally done. How can I become anything but less than the half that I broke and left unceremoniously upon the bedroom floor with those stained sheets of accusations. It is all my fault. I did this to both of us And the water is rising.

This is not guilt. This is not regret. This isn't an attempt to explain away my wrong doings. This is nothing but the mess I sleep with in my head. And it's getting worse. So why should I stop? These devils that I've fed with desecration are hungry again. Yet I know precisely where this leaves me. Without her. I left her. I left her alone. I left her behind a crooked door that I slammed shut. And now I see how the worshiped have become the butchered. How this sacrifice has put all those lesser demons in there fucking place. The food-chain of fellow rapist and deities all looks as appetizing as a buffet of petrified fucking carcases. And it all makes me sick.

So praise me alchemist, for what sins I have done in the past are but an insinuation of what I have yet to achieve. Without a guardian left in this lake of fire, I have no reason at all to wait for any kingdoms to come, for I have sought them all out, and I have found all of your daughters to be dead! What animal would stoop so low as to ever bow down before me? For the monsters now sleep with me right in my fucking bed!

She swims with Ophelia's face, and I watch the waters weigh heavy upon her isolation. Yet I cannot help her. I am already sunk.

© 2007 BRUCE STIRLING JOHN KNOX