Apocalypse Within

Damien’s Back: Flesh of My Flesh

An Ode to DMX “Flesh of My Flesh Blood Of My Blood” Album

Photo by Aarón Blanco Tejedor on Unsplash

The rain came down like blades on the bones of the town, while insomnia’s fingers kept dragging me down.

I sat in the dark with my back to the wall, hearing guilt in the vents like a funeral call.

The television shimmered with phantom white haze, throwing crooked reflections that twisted my face.

Then the room got cold with a sepulchral breath, like invisible hands had just crawled out of death.

That’s when I saw him emerge from the gloom, like a plague wearing skin in the corner of the room.

Damien grinned with a predator smile, eyes full of ruin and carnivorous bile.

He said, You still carry your hatred like chains, still sleep with your trauma embalmed in your veins.

You thought time would bury the beast deep inside, but sorrow unattended comes back amplified.

Outside thunder roared with apocalyptic rage, like Revelation comes and we're trapped in a cage.

The ceiling leaked shadows in spiral designs, forming faces that screamed from forgotten times.

Damien walked slow with mortician grace, like rigor mortis was stitched to his frame.

He whispered, Your anger’s evolving again, turning old scars into famished revenants.

Then visions erupted like ruptures in glass, old friends in pine boxes all lowering fast.

Children with hollow eyes blackened by grief, mothers crying prayers through vampire teeth.

I heard every lie that I buried alive come back malformed with necrotic eyes.

Regret grew claws in the pit of my chest, while panic ran rabid and tore through my flesh.

I tried to speak, but my jaw locked tight, lungs collapsing like buildings at dead of night.

Damien just laughed with infernal delight, like chaos itself had descended from Christ.

He said evil don’t always arrive with screams. Sometimes it blossoms inside wounded dreams.

It feeds when resentment gets worshipped as truth, when vengeance becomes what empowers the youth.

Then the walls started breathing diseased little breaths, the wallpaper peeling like rotting flesh.

I looked in the mirror my face looked deranged, like grief and psychosis had chemically changed.

That’s when I realized with marrow deep dread, the monster grows strongest when spiritually fed.

Damien was around every time I'm bleeding, part of him lived in the rage I kept feeding.

Morning arrived looking lifeless and gray, like the heavens themselves up and ran away.

Damien was gone, but his lesson remained, Hell becomes home when you romanticize pain.

pain is weakness leaving the body was said by someone who was weak and couldn’t stand the pain.

Mike X Vinson

P. S.

Let me leave you with two of my quotes!

Pain is more than pain, to me,P pain is my pulse — Mike X Vinson

Pain lets me know I’m still alive — Mike X Vinson (also the title to one of my poems that’s pinned to my profile)😁