Revelation Of The Daemon Seed

This is an old poem, the one poem I have ever felt has come close to my own expectations and criticisims, though still falling short. The relevance however still stands true. Of late I have been feeling an overwhelming desire to return to my old ways, once again drowning my miseries and thoughts. Only once this year have I fallen to the old urges, though it begins to invade my very dreams. I am my own worst enemy and wish only to escape myself, to save myself, and those who would dare be near me.

Revelation of The Daemon Seed

My skin starts to crawl,
As realisation dawns,
Impending. Brutal. Fascinating.
Horrifying, this need in me.
I always thought I was above this want,
This craving that kills the mind,
This drowning self induced.

Inherent perhaps? A genetic miscalculation?
A sickness even, though one to be embraced.
Hard to understand,
Comprehend, decipher.
Only time will reveal,
If it causes a future insight,
Or simply helps to forget.

But oh, how I crave to forget!
To cast aside,
These shackles of the mind.
Is it oblivion or absolution,
That calls my name in sleep?
That hints at wanton ignorance,
And craves a dull wit and heated belly.

Is it a shadowy Daemon,
Whispering words of false justification?
Promising a place in purgatory,
Where nothing is, or was, nor ever will be.
A kingdom in a great void,
To be ruled without fear of sufferance?
No consequences, no obligations.

Or is it less romantic,
In it's humanity?
A weakness of will, evident in desires?
Nothing more than a mind
Bent on escape, release.
Searching to be released,
From a world of indifference.

Ah! But in this junction
Have we discovered something more?
Is it a mind that seeks something,
Other than oblivion?
Seeks a passion of experience,
In an emotionally void existence,
To replace feelings once treasured and lost?

Or is it just a 20th century result?
Nothing more beautiful or profound
Then a chemical dependence.
Explained away by the Gods of science,
Leaving man with nothing more,
To his heart and soul,
Than a mathematical probability.

Or is it darker still?
A self destruction, subconscious, unrealised.
A result of an inner morbidity,
The want to punish oneself,
To dissolve the body,
Which houses an already lost mind,
That holds the secrets of regret.

Whether the things that suggest,
Are cause, result or provocation,
I do not know, at this time.
But lack of insight,
Does not, alas, deny the fact.
Cause, result or provocation aside,
I do not know, at this time.
But lack of insight,
Does not, alas, deny the fact.
Cause, result or provocation aside,
This want is ever present.

A shaky feeling, a trembling excitement,
Intensified as the hours crawl by.
A mouth gone dry with anticipation,
Hands clammy and stomach tightening.
Expectation, almost pre intoxication.
All these thought coupled,
With the sour tang of dread.

For too regular is this occurrence,
As I seek it day by day.
A journey wasted, lost to time,
As I plan my next cold affair.
How simple it would be,
If this obsession were subject to a woman,
And not the cravings of liquid release.

But plan I do, my next visit,
To discover at last,
The cause, result or provocation.
Eloquence may be lost,
Inhibitions cast aside,
But realisation, revelation,
Of the Daemon seed I go to find.

The very first taste
Sends shivers down my spine.
Numbing the fear, the trepidation,
The disquiet of my soul.
And yet I shake, tremble,
Like the anticipation of a first kiss.
God above! What have I become?

With the first pull of oblivion,
I know the night is lost,
To the cause, result or provocation.
Almost finished, the first of many,
And in an instant it's gone.
Still, I'm no closer to understanding,
So I order again, and smile to myself.

Ah with every pull, my mind,
And my soul is warmed to life.
I know now at least,
This void that I seek.
I know it like an old lover,
The greatest of friends,
This place that feels so light.

Senses dulled, I lose sight,
Of the task with which I'm charged.
Reason escapes me, embracing the void,
As my world becomes less substantial.
Whatever the cause, result or provocation,
It's aim grows ever clear, as my mind
Is cast into a world of nothing.

It became too hard as the night wore on,
To distinguish reality from oblivion.
Yet a new day dawns, and senses return,
And already I ponder my return.
With water in my belly, so dull yet necessary,
I recover from the nights aftermath,
And pray I can wait at least one day.

Already the thirst pulls at my mind,
This something enticing me,
Calling me, begging me.
Promising solitude and companionship,
Oblivion and purpose all at once.
This home away from home,
This sanctuary from my mind.

A distortion of time, as my heart,
Succumbs to the craving that controls me.
Like two lines that run side by side,
My mind is split and part of me watches,
My judging self cringes,
As the hours slow to a crawl,
But the other wilts as it ends too soon.

And then I know, I understand,
What it is I do: Therefore;
The cause, the result and the provocation.
Not a means to escape reality,
Not a Daemon, whispering, leading,
No, none of these things,
I do it to escape myself.
Lemartes Lemartes
31-35, M
Sep 19, 2012