The Creative Killer (poem)

By Luke Labern

Blood never washes -- when veins are split,
The mind leaks; all logic clots. Dies.
A life in tatters... Your freedom replaced by guilt:
This is my confession, here alone I sit,
Where my once-precious brain rots, orbited by flies,
I weep, but nothing helps. Now, watch the planet tilt:

Swallow me, hell --if only it existed-- reserve
Me a spot, for I'm a killer, a rapist of life.
God's dead, "He" never was; so no redemption.
No church to attend, no sanctity to preserve...
I regret it, but I saw red, then I took out that knife
To solve my problems, the murder I mention...

No help above, no punishment below;
Leaving me to deal my sentence.
But I'm the evil, I am the hate...
To take a life is all I know,
Simply no repentance,
A broken soldier, did you create.

A Poem,
Published 23 January 2012

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While I no longer stand by the work itself, the themes remain relevant: the meaning of life, finding purpose, exitalism, philosophical depression, nihilism, and the eessential questions of existence.

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Disclaimer: This was written by an atheist. A fool. I do not stand by this work. I have left this here for the sake of posterity, and for the necessity of correcting myself. Click here for more information.