The highfalutin spectacle lain in ruin

Majesty shattered at a mere act

What could have possibly gone wrong here?

Something impossible became very possible, silent depths plunged

Succumbing fast, violently and without warning like a flash flood

Pouring from my soul like nothing I ever knew

Had I been taken?

Had I deceived myself?

What foolish notion that I had undertaken

The angelic lover, the demonic dragon and seductive vampire

Rolled into an unforgettable persona, a smile and penchant for lust

Now did it overturn against me, ruin me and lead me against myself

Did I forget who I was, what I could do?

Had I forsaken my vows to chase an endless peril?

Deny me three times, said Christ to Peter

And in this, I did follow suit

For I denied what was right, for the pleasure

I forsook what is just, for the passion

That I turned away to seek a joy which was mine alone

I swung hard and missed

Now I am to be the fool and the liar for what I have done.

The grandiosity never left me, the spectacle so still

That even in the midnight hour, the cantankerous labor

The indefatigable power still smoldering in me

How foolish had I become?

When did I, a charmer and viper, become so blind, that even I couldn’t precognitively recognize this end?

Oh but I did, since no calculation can escape my notice

What would I be a fool for now, that my shame exposed, my weakness displayed like a tattered flag on the battlefield

Indeed, could I lie here; keying these very words, indubitably surmise the very end of something I tried to construct from nothing?

Who was I indeed fooling but myself?

This art form that I know, that possess, has it lost its potency?

Who am I now, now that I lost my power, my sting and my venom?

My tongue, forked, fangs primed and ready, yet I can’t even subdue the very prey that wants to be taken.

What do my kisses mean now, now they are seen as an empty promise?

To whom, do I pen sonnets, when such ostentatious displays are now seen as only words

And not the powerful machismo for what they once were?

Am I even a man, anymore?

Who am I, which I can do these things in failure when failure is something I do not accept

Estranged from myself, that I am

Ensconced and unraveled by my own hand, a failure I am not.

But am I a man?

Am I?

This would burn me for all time, the deed played back to me as if I were on trial for murder

How could I not accomplish my mission?

My promises now seem like a broken glass window

A thin stream of blood poured down it marking the murder scene

For now I am truly dead

I would be surprised, if life found its way to me again

For what would I have done to deserve such a thing?

Introspection is something every man should practice.

Speak little, carry a big stick

And these things, I had done without fail

Yet I still fail and now fall by the wayside, choked on brambles and thorns

To what end do I need passion now

When the sake of my own manhood lie in ruins, and in question

I feel like Rome, sacked and razed by the Visigoths

That Gaul in all her ancient glory dismembered me, and tossed me aside to rape me again

Could I be that Whore of Babylon made to be desolate before the nations?

Now I fear that my flesh is to be consumed

Destroyed like kindled firewood, and at my own behest, recreated to live it again and again

What the hell am I?

Am I who I am?

Am I what I say I am?

What the hell am I asking of myself?

Why am I this way, scorned and pillaged like some whore upon the corner?

What truth do I now face?

For even in divine judgment, I could not bear to face the consequential terms set before me.

What have I become?

Tears are for the weak, and though I am not

I weep for my shame and my pride

Like shattered dreams and endless nightmares, this failure, this moment will smolder

It’s a tattoo I will carry, that no one can see with mortal eyes

Yet it is there, another mark for my destitute soul.

Should I be afraid?

So should I renounce my manhood, my spirit and my warrior’s heart?

For the courage I needed, so desperately needed had fallen

When I needed it the most

I could not hold my trusted weapon

And secure victory, for which I so desperately desired

Am I even, a man?