the killing fields

We are all serial killers
of mosquitoes and loneliness
We come online
to share our war stories
We were there
as journalists
as soul diers
as freedom fighters
as poets and dancers
on the front lines
of the killing fields

Now we are home
safe and warm
with our comforts
Our food, our wine
our cigarettes, our lovers
Our toy train sets
Our photos and devices
Nothing can harm us
We call our kids
wish them well
they are out there
in the crazy world
touring the killing fields

We are killing machines
born and bred to conquer
the emptiness, the nothingness
avoid it like the plague
in moments of ecstasy
we yearn for god
to save us from ourselves
that moment of truth
the sacred
the orgasmic
the omg
as we claim another victim
on these killing fields

Sweet songs of surrender
Dancing on lovers tongues
When all your dreams come true
When everything you ever wanted
Is now yours forever more
When the hurricane has passed
A sea of calm in the soft morning
You will hear a holy song
a little bird singing in your heart
the song of loneliness
the song of emptiness
the song of nothingness
you miss it and feel fake
without it, all this
for nothing and then
come to terms with
what you have become

a darkness descends
like never before
years go by

the poetry always feel incomplete
without the music
and vice versa