Yet Another Year Hath Faded

Dying light accents the softest of blues behind scattered cloud. Where below, as the sun dissapears for the last time this year, there are amber and green-yellow hues that blend gently. To the ominous west is a hellish dark rose flourescence. Alike to a work in watercolor depicting Southwestern tones, the nearly white lime greens and the glowing, scorpionlike wisps of cloud contrast while retaining a certain harmony.

Chronicled across the sky are all imaginings of this year. The first of my son's life, the first months I've spent with my firstborn. Looking back I recall a beautiful, fleeting happiness that I know I must release from my mind's grip. If only I could relive this day for all of eternity, with this chosen sunset as well.

Ah, now the brush that paints the sky has been dipped in the black of storm, seeping across the corners of my vision, What once glowed has been rendered with a weeping ink that spreads slower than the human eye can measure, signifying that all true beauty must one day be washed away into the ultimatum; the encompassing; the shimmering, black void. Into that ever-present yet nonexistent oblivione that swallows the memory of even the most majestic and monumental of sunsets.

I implore you to stay, o sun! For with your presence remains every fragment of life, of hope and possibility. But alas, the flourescent scorpions of the sky have lost their form, displaced amidst the encroaching slate.

As I bear witness to the final rain-choked sunset of 2005, I hold onto this moment as though my soul depended upon the embrace.

If I had the means, I would end your life at this moment...
Yeah you, slime, rodent, maggot-gut, bag of filth.

The millions which fall into this description... hear me now.

I wish to kill you. Before the eyes of those innocents you have pained, preferably. In the fullest of color, the largest of viewscreens, I would demonstrate what comes to those who deny the karmic wheel.

Yeah you, stain, you festering mucosal drip.

The innocents still recall the sickness in your beady eyes, as you strove to separate their conscience from their physicality through subtle verbal manipulations. And yes, when you finally broke them, sending them to cry in shame, you laughed the laughter of madmen through time... senseless, ignorant, and echoing through the heads of those unfortunate enough to hear the dischord.

I will kill you, one day. Be it in words or with my blade... I will not stop until the karmic wheel has spun to it's proper position, and all is justified by the sands of time.

And still, as your insipid manipulations and grandiose, self-imposed claims of messiahhood bleed stinking and thinly into soil that had once been pure, once before your death, Mother Nature herself will reject you. For even in death will your putrefaction corrupt her pristine soils; she shall ne'er accept your heinous corpse. Retching and vomiting forth your poisoned, mangled remains for your master Lucifer to consume and defecate.

At last, you are no more. Yet if only I could render as dead the bitter memories in the hearts of all you have tainted.