Necromancer

Beast of burden

I died, I died, I died, I died, and I died. Together we sought the ether, you and I; motifs of misconstruction are our toils. Disenthralled from delusions am I; bewitched by sentiments are you. Need I become human to yield to such folly, I shall embrace my wraith lest my soul quiver. I have no voice: you slit my throat. I have no vision: you slashed my eyes. I have no touch: you abscised my limbs. Blind was I for your blindness and deaf for your deafness. God’s consort were you: entrenched in delirium and heedless to my pleas of reconciliation. My veins were your map of victimhood, and my heart, your confessional; yet I was the fatality in this cataclysm — nay, abomination — we christened love. I bore witness to your plummet into the fathomless bowels of disillusionment. Akin to my dismembered corpse are your otherworldly predilections; your reason is the mouthpiece for your nonage. A beast of burden have I become, unbeknownst to me: my reality that none can gainsay. I died. You killed me. We killed us, and our laurels have withered. An enchantress are you, a necromancer; may your mana never call to my spirit, for in my demise is your contentment — rife with fancy. Caustically will I grin at your obtuseness. Gods, too, die; veins, too, dissever. Thus, I say unto you: awaken from your reverie. Look upon the rose and cypress and aster and iris; watch them solely as them. You pitiful woman. I gave you sight; yet you failed to see. Behold the future you have wrought.