Genocide Approach Requiem At 34th
Thumbing thorugh these photographs, I choke on the
dust. First thing I've tasted in seven years. The
loving arms that reached to us held freshly sharpened
knives and promised us sleep. Lies handed to a family
destroyed, destroyed by her absence. This is some kind
of sick joke, right? Her blood on the corners of your
content smile tells me the contrary. If she could only
see me now, this vile object of putrescence I have
become. The man who once held her now gives his love to
a hopeless carcass, as one deserves another. You have
caused this massacre. What separates you from a
murderer? Good intent? Well, your golden heart has
rusted, and I wait for the day it fails. I have slammed
the album shut, I cannot bear to look anymore. How
beautiful she was during her last days. I cannot feel
myself breathe, and I hope it is not an illusion.
Leaving now this requiem, this belated eulogy, in the
waters at 34th Avenue, that which marks her departure.
I know now that I must set these pictures afire and
bathe in the flames if I ever want to free myself of
this which you have given me. You watched as the
cameras cashed in on the crash, drunk on the blood she
left us. You turned away as she was impaled on sheet
metal spears, fashioned by the blameless. I hope that
call was worth it. I hope your life depended on that
sudden stop that took hers. On those sleepless nights,
I hope you think of me and what you have done to my
family. Seven years of my life have been a constant
film loop of that day. I am forced to constantly relive
these horrors, and she is forced to listen to her own
screams trapped inside my broken soul, and watch me rot
from the inside out, dying piece by piece as our
windblown hearts fall into the abyss to meet somewhere
in the middle. Constantly watching her own son die, as
she has. She cannot save me, and she knows it. Heaven
save her from this hell. And heaven save you from ever
meeting me.