Index . SpiralDancer Texts

Poison Fools

This damn world is slowly killing me.
Slowly.
Oh so slowly.
But without the sharp acid bite of pain.
Instead, it uses implements, dull and blunt.
An ache.
A slow burn.
A slow fuse.
Rot.

Did I wrong thee?
Did I hurt thee?

I sit disillusioned,
Here out in the 'Great Lands'.
Looking out at the fields of snow.
Crying a salt leaden tear.

Oh, the killing beauty of it.
How sweet the stench of death can be,
If the killer sugars the poison.

Did I ever wrong thee?
Did I ever hurt thee?

She smiles.
And I smile too.

But maybe,
Just maybe.
It is not the all mother.
But ourselves that grind down upon us.

"If the earth hath a skin, and the skin hath disease,
Then surely we are the pox upon the skin of the earth."

So, it is us my friends.

We destroy ourselves.
Languidly.
Not in a quick flash of determined suicide.
Oh no. Too easy!
But we do it so slothfully,
An uncoordinated poisoning.

Fools.

All of us.

Dead fools.

Copyright J.Hill (Subz / spiralDancer)