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Jerome Coleman

of

Saint Charles, MO, US

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Thrust Me Through! Thrust Me Through! Without Reserve

by

Jerome Coleman

My intention is to stand at the edge of silence
As a man dying on his feet, or amid the deceitful echo's voice.
Only then! Will I dance around in its deadly embrace?

Within my hand, and whatís more, without reserve, I hold a dagger! And sing of my demise.
Disfigure me now! I plea, thrust me through and through!
That I may take my leave, among sorrows endless shadows.

For you are my exodus from life! Sweet dagger. However in this moment with your razored blade pointed to my heart
I sway motionless and somewhat red, amid sullen skies
And alas, do I look down upon my cowardice stance.

Fingers clenched white, as creamy milk about this weapon
My gut churns, and I laugh!
As a crazed addict about to secure his fix.
The airs fever smoldering as a candlewick, dripping into nothingness.

In crisis, I wince! Am I asleep and perhaps dreaming?
Here in this moment, contained by fury
There is nothing but anguish, thatís strangely greater than the pain of pain, so as to infuse me of dread and lingering sleepless nights?

O the image of the dagger, piercing my soul, intruding upon my flesh
The theatrical brilliance of its silvered blade, in my minds-eye
Kissed I am, with madness!
With no true remission, none at all, beyond holding a further day before me.

Every morning the curtain rises! Alone, I hear the dark dissolving.
Piece by piece, I give up the mechanical laws of life
As a poet on a sad and windy day, watching the filmy breasts
Of womanly clouds pass such sorrowful life.
Is this farewell!
Apathy, and its only apathy that I feel, eager for anyone to voice!"Here take my hand, I will rally to you".
Even so, the regal silhouette holds me to task, and step by step I give up the ghost
To live or die this day, is of no matter.

I do understand the unavoidable fabric of life, although I must also possess courage also!
I have neglected this obligation too long, or perhaps fulfilled it only in appearance
I apologize in the case that I've been mistaken.

Therefore, pardon me O death, for not surrendering my life's blood.
You see! In the thirsty mercy of my throat, I felt the noose of your knife about my neck, stealing breath!
And after some thought, I have decided to line-up among the living to face the intensity of numerous footlights, and discharge the dagger!
From this remarkable stage.