He’s Ensured His Future Damnation

Soldiering on without the blessing of his one love,

Lazing in the sun’s golden rays of heated delight,

Dreaming of being selfishly sufficient,

But instead he swallows his pride to do what’s right.

🖤

He spent the dark hours of the night conversing with the moon,

Discussing his deepest, darkest secrets of which he hides,

Looking for advice and possible solutions to his quandary,

Chasing rainbows in the moonbeams with which he rides.

🖤

Shadows darken the purity of his honest to goodness heart,

Taking his vulnerability and turning it to steel,

Cladding his weaknesses in muscle strained armour,

Ensuring the sore points on his psyche with which to conceal.

🖤

The hammock bed that he lavishes his fickle dreams,

Covets the pillow on which he lays his handsome head,

Golden strands of his mane whisper around his shoulders,

Shimmering in gold with the tiniest glimpse of red thread.

🖤

The wheels of justice turn in his direction,

Removing the weight from his crown of heavy thorns,

Blood drains down his sunken cheeks in sympathy,

Gracing this individual in which the love adorns.

🖤

As he awakens from his latest nightmare,

He tastes the exquisite kiss of her ruby red lips,

The swindling of her fingertips across each of his muscles,

When he wallows in the delight of which he gracefully sips.

🖤

The doors to the future spring wide at his request,

And he boldly scours the universal predictions for the best,

Showering in the aftermath of perfect decisions,

Leaving the discarded opinion for the crowds that attest.

🖤

The poles of destiny ride high above his head,

Believing he can’t jump to any great extent,

His smile on his face a huge cheeky grin,

When he proves the universe wrong as he’s hell bent.

🖤

He dresses carefully in the swathes of cruelty and addiction,

Tussling up the cords of his favourite country tune,

A moustache swallows his top lip in a bushel of perfection,

As he howls at the top of his lungs on the full moon.

🖤

Once the song has abated he shouts to the mountain,

“Don’t tower over me leaving me to succumb to the shadow of darkness,

Stripping me of the blessing of the moon on the nigh,

And ridding the sunshine from my soul in adamant starkness.”

🖤

With these words a battle cry upon his sated lips,

He runs the trail of his gauntlet in steady might,

Seldom does his feet stumble over the constant obstacles,

Unnoticed as he prepares to battle his greatest fight.

🖤

Screams echo after the clashing of his swords,

Arrows raining in a parade of sticks and pain,

Notches on his belt hasten to addition,

When he rambles around the rubbish in vain.

🖤

Rope lashes his ankles in an attempt to burst his bubble,

Although it’s a testimony to his strength when he is unaware,

He rids the valley of the mightiest of anthills,

Leaving only the worthless of which he imprisons to scare.

🖤

At the end of the fortitude soaked in blood,

He stands in the battleground, surveying his annihilation,

A smile adorns his face as he looks to the heavens,

Knowing he now stands tall in his future damnation.

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Originally published on Medium