Epilogue: 640 mots.

They said he was a guy who just did drugs

And played guitar. I thought that it

Was more and that they could not see it

From afar.

A door into an other World.

Devoid of all pretension.

And tight rope-walking spaceman hurled

Into the next dimension.

What if all of the designers

Who had made your favourite games

Were all drug pushing maligners

Who could never feel the shame.

What if it was never real?

The claims that it had shared her

Suicidal woes. And what if its own

Solitary aims and subtle games

Nobody knows?

Because it claimed that all I said

Was so conveniently in my favour.

Like I’d let it all get to my head

Inflamed by its behavior.

But have I not earned the right to savour

What I lost? And if the flavor that I order

Here is Justice. Must it not be that I should

Enjoy the frost? And mindless of the

Cost.

A kind man will enjoy his kindness

If it is reciprocated. He could be

As easily moved to the blindest

Rage if he is baited.

What was convenient for him

Then to omit at my expense:

That he’d supplied an addict

That I loved with drugs

With sex for recompense.

And she believed she was not used

And it could be excused. And so she

So refused to listen. Even as I shouted

Of the ruse.

He raped and killed her

When he willed her out of my

Perfection. And so chilled is

Still my blood for all the blood

That had been spilled by her

Selection.

Her rejection had meant nothing

Next to the one loss I feared.

And sex was something that I never held so

Dear. But they would not adhere

For when they’d hear the psychopathic

Side. How quickly they would side against

My wrath in service to its pride.

She died because I never could omit

In my Great Hope any detail.

That given the entire scope

They’d help her to escape and cope

And Truth and Goodness would prevail.

But what had been the central issue

Clear in every symptom as a pock

Marked zit. Was that I was a victim

And that he was only ever it.

But it was this same griping

Over problems at the very core.

That made it so impossible to solve them.

When my throat was growing sore.

For what lies deep at the core

Of all the lies and washes up

On every shore.

Is thrown back easily

Into the water. That he

Bought her like a whore

Was more than I could bear then to repeat

Or to believe. But all the more I wanted

Them to see the Truth and to relieve.

But what had been so central

Was to them so marginal and

Petty. I could not conceive of it

For this I never had been ready.

And the ones who knew the whole extent of it

Did nothing. But it’s true that they are guilty of it

Too. At least one man here: he did something.

And when it refused, all self-excused

To make amends for what it had the

Nerve to take from friends:

The One Love of my Life.

And Her Life towards meeting its

Ends.

I thought that would be enough

Without the details to convince.

But the Devil lives in all the details.

And she sails with him as with a Prince.

A Prince of Darkness will embark on this:

To rape and murder his closest friend’s

Chosen bride.

I did not know what part to say

To sell it to you that it was not

Justified.

But it must be true to form now

You are all informed that

She has died.

Now: are you now so deformed

As to hold on to every norm

And pride?

Dm.A.A.