Abbadon – Pains in my heart

By Blaise ‘Aphascea’ Aboh

 

I have pains in my chest to admit, it’s like a rot
I have strains in my eyes…of reasons I know not
Answers I cannot find, despite much query
I tried, then I cried & despised the times too many

I have not a heart, I tell you this so you understand
I know not hate, I know not love, I’m indifferent
In all I speak, I fear that you’d misunderstand
For my thoughts and my being now are so itinerant

Times I drift forcefully to the subconscious
To grasp things that eludes my conscious
All I see is but an illusion, all I seek I find not
I remain perturbed, bewildered, I remain lost

It’s been days past since the 153 crashed
All the way plunging to death, to mish-mash
As if only they committed ‘sin’
Oh (sobs) you know not how I’ve been

Betrayed sublimely, like Absalom
Shattered, wandering for far too long
In abeyance, crisscrossing plains
A walking bag of bones, blood, pains

Dripping & loosing essence, depleted of chakra
Staggering like a juju man babbling mantras
With not but memories of faces that once were
Faces departed , casting not a shadow, without farewell

I’m Left with gross emptiness, depth of sadness
No peace nor sanity, save for madness
Amidst bleak hope, eyes to the hills, to Babylon
Seeking answers, redemption, if not then Abbadon

 

Chaos in me

By Blaise ‘Aphascea’ Aboh

 

Tears in eyes, hot like magma, breath pace dropping,

seizing, skin ravaged by goose pimples.

Blood rising, boiling like geysers, hands growing bigger.

Hair at the back of the neck, hard & standing.

Palm fronds dancing in subtlety, cool air,

yet skin crawling like the dark one is close by.

Nose dripping sticky liquid, eyes full of tears, sparkling,

rolling down, death cries of the 153 engulfing.

Still, mind on Hitler’s favorite song, ‘sounds of howling dogs’,

jazz, the word ‘murder’ taunting me.

Eyes dripping some more, left hand wiping it,

thoughts on a Makarov, sickle and a rope.

Thoughts of what is, what was, & what could have been,

voices of the dead are all I’m hearing

Thundering in the sky, a plane, same thundering feeling from within,

paranoia, pain filled memories.

Mind burgled, aversion kicking in, hallucination,

queries, do I dream or are they truly gone?

Fear, yet un-fear, reality, abysmal pain,

despond & pity for the families who lost it all.

Sky metallic, shadows cast, surrealistic plays

and replays of the death plane & its vile path.

Hope? Despond? Death? Life?

John Druit and Dr. James Watson in a battle of domination.

 

Of the soul. This soul, mine, a lost one, in Abbadon,

wandering, pondering life, death, purpose

Asking why? Losing it. At mercy of Zeus and Hades,

wondering who loves it more.