A word will not deter the urge I keep
To purge my life, deterge it of all scourge.
The curs who have incurred my curse can weep,
And murder will be served without a dirge.
But, first, I shall inter the nerve I slew
That turned me to inure the worst of men.
Insert it in the blur amnesia grew--
An early version won't emerge again.
The blessings of forgetting can't allow
Forgiveness to attend a spent offense.
I've let my present self cement a vow,
Impending death for death of civic sense.
Expression is infected by intent
Deceptive and obsessed with act employed.
Persona content conjured to content
Dependence on attention farcing void.
So is it really killing if the heart
Expired did not give an honest pulse?
Will ethics dictate on a simple chart
Which deed has virtue eager to revulse?
If living has become so false and flawed,
Then ripping it to bits should make none grieve.
If blood is sprayed from deepness of facade,
Then liquid spilled is fount of make believe.