Kamikabe Buried Revelation
Moss grew over my eyes, and the roots went to my brain,
down my throat, through
my knees, and out my toes. There will be no salvation.
A perspective struggles
for air, engulfed by the earth’s healing scab. Let the
dirt pour from the
inside of my skull, as I am excavated from the burning
wreckage. My torso opens
to reveal a mass grave, exhuming the skeletons buried
in my chest. Why must
there be illumination upon this festering pile? Cursing
that which wakes me. I
coil to make my nest, to hide my scales from the light.
I have not yet had my
time in the sun. There will be no salvation, for I am
the serpent doomed to
crawl on my stomach. Slithering beneath your feet and
between your toes.
Learning your minds, mimicking your frivolity. But all
jubilation is mine in
the end. Basilisk fangs glistening in the sun’s final
rays, to alleviate a
radial hatred, ancient and hypnotic. Staining your
lives and all the earth with
a bitterness, subtle and unbearable, yet tangible at
the very base of your
mind. A worm becomes a king. Arising to crush the crown
of God. Eternally
dispelling my misery to permeate through every molecule
of life that pulses
over this planet. The sun burns blinding red before
eternally ceasing its
graceful shine. In a serpent’s mouth the earth shall be
swallowed whole. And we
will ask ourselves before we finally die: How miserable
is the light that
shines into my eyes?
