Quiet and Alone

A poem by- R.J.Calzonetti

A recreation of my personal hell. Self-destruction is the name of the game. 

6th grade: I walk into the classroom made lion's den, quiet and alone

Unaware of the fact I was a lamb to the slaughter

Alone in the crowd

After school, the devil worships me, quiet and alone

I walk onto a train track, quiet and alone

Waiting for the roar of white noise to consume me

I paint over the windows in my mind I should have left years ago

So that I'm quiet and alone

A recluse of the avenues of solitude agoraphobia's megalomaniac algorithmic non-fiction hypnotism transmogrified full course of metamorphosis the horror story immortal

Avoiding chickens who walk over eggshells, never alone, I've lost my head, but my body is still running discombobulated to this day

I lose track of time, quiet and alone, in my fabricated mausoleum daydreaming reavers with the cleavers of Eden's deceiver, ensnared in the ensemble of paragons monsters godless disparity buried alive in the sunrise of another wasted moment

Every day is stagnating like a dead body that never got to live, devoured by the scavengers of madnesses havoc, the worms eternally murmured through my vertebrae in the vertigo terraforming orphanages the inaugural bottomless carnivores matador to the hurricane of thoughts that plot through the thorns of a rose-petal born petrified in the petroleum goldenrod burning inferno infinitesimo infestation manifesting in my hollow chest as the heart beats against the bones of cold harbour harbinger targeted the matriarch martyr I encompass emptiness impressions a revenant of relentless relationless acreage for a faceless man that wears my cerebral hands like a headboard on the skull of aluminum plumerias miscarriage carrion

I sit by my computer all day, quiet and alone, afraid to lose myself, I prepare for the next time I will challenge hatred's manifestation, the day I will walk out of my flesh and into the void

Hoping I won't be made quiet again

When I face the hunters that wish to sell my pelt for their pride, alone

Quiet in the iridescent screaming of intravenous fealty intriguing reality's incorporeal poltergeist integrating an invitational damnation to the right to the property of my suffering

6th grade, I walk into the lions den

And am devoured as just another zebra by the shades of black and white between the scythes of wrong and right

Alone in the feeding spree of behemoths called society

I quietly rip apart the pieces of the puzzle, incomplete

I walk into the den, again, as I become hungry for a love that's decomposed enclosing on the loneliness

I walk into the den, envisioned enveloped in the melancholy melody of my swansong

And leave wearing the burden of blood

The skins of vengeance

And become my own victim

To the blood-lustrous

Consumption of myself

I become the void

Within my own heart

Buried within the flesh of nothingness, walking out of the void, into the bones of the maelstrom, the meat

Quiet and alone

Dissonance whispering blizzards bewildered by the guillotine of corpses intercourses

Divorced to voiceless that scream shimmering obsidian flesh gluttonous

Infinity is quiet and alone

And it steps on the eggshells

Because us puzzles were never truly whole, to begin with