Art

I Lose Comprehension of What Beauty is When You Aren’t Here – Hestia N/A

“You Have No Fragrance”

 

Before me lay an angel
Beaten and battered
Its wings crumpled
Head hung low as it bled profusely staining the soil and asphalt
Then in just a moment it stopped moving
It stopped bleeding
The blood slowly crawled back into the carcass
Its viscera sealing itself inside this coffin-body
In what was no longer than a moment
Its whole self dissipated
Rotting away the body spewed forth fire, brimstone, great furious winds
Then a deafening silence
Suddenly there was nothing left but an absence
An angel sized hole in existence

 

“When You Fall it Will be Tragic”

 

On my morning walk
Consumed in my routine
I suddenly noticed 2 angels dancing together
Their wings in motion, synced with the other’s
Dancing and swaying they seemed to not notice my presence
I sat myself down on the nearby curb
Losing myself in their intricate esoteric dance
Suddenly my trance was broken
Hours had passed
I glanced back and forth looking for the angels
But they had disappeared
I smiled to myself and continued my walk
Heart warmed by witnessing such beautiful divinity in motion

 

“Losing Myself in your Tulip Blossoms”

 

Fields of golden calligraphy suspended in space
Divinity’s endless realm of pure beauty made physical
Endlessly shifting, swaying
Losing myself in the dance of letters
Hours pass
Only to wake from my restless dreams
The divine burned into my skull
Scars of the hallucinationary
Only in dreams can I enter this realm
When awake I’m just another soul trapped in mundane purgatory

 

“Make Me a Martyr, Make Me One with your Beauty”

 

On my daily night walk I pondered why I am
Who made me, what meaning do I bring
I kicked a can down the road
When the can slammed into something
Shriveling inward into ash
My gaze shuffled upwards from my dead feet
Filling yet blurring my sight stood a being Arms crossed, head hung in prayer
Eyes soaked in a blindfold, shrouded in white linen
He had 10 wings made of martyrs’ hand’s
Its light shined down upon me blasting me to the ground
I’ve gone blind
The angel disappears from the world its existence filling presence becoming null
I’m left with a weighted emptiness

 

“You Can’t be any Worse than my Scars”

 

Drunk I sit near comatose in a shitty bar
A booth for two shared between me and my ghost
Drowning myself in whiskey and rum, while chain smoking enough packs that the smoke clings to me with its hooks driven in
The cloud of smoke obscuring me in its embrace
Transforms me into a walking smoldering bonfire
Quite befitting for someone as broken as I
The stink of death that emanates from me is suffocating even for the smoke from my cigarettes
Wallowing in this cacophony of inadequacy is where I find myself when she enters my vision
As bright as a landscape painting modeled off of a sunny field of crops in the heat of the Midwest summer
Her xanax-shaped smile entrances me
I’m trapped in her addictive gaze
She waltzes over to my booth and shoves my ghost aside, flinging it back into my body
I don’t remember the exact pattern of her words
Those hushed sweet nothings shared between strangers
But regardless I find myself in her apartment
There isn’t anything special about it just another crumbling apartment in a sinking city
I go to ask her where the bathroom is but before the words escape my maw her lips are flush to mine
You know where this goes from here
Imagine whatever you want to imagine but that hour of dykery is meaningless besides that it felt great
She clings onto me now, her head on my chest, arms wrapped around my torso
Maybe I deserve to rot in Hell or languish in Purgatory for what I’ve done
With sunrise approximately 10 years away
These moments of reprieve are what make life worth living