Rest in peace
To Jim Blanning:
What was the point of your elegant struggle?
Railing against the same venomous teat
That fed your greedy heart,
Black milk still wet on your shiny lips.
And in the end, you ran,
Lost and confused into your own illogic
Destroying the very thing your ruined mind wished to save.
Down you sank, down into the pit of deepest despair
Where even God’s light cannot reach
And now it is dark, perfectly black
And now it is silent, deathly silent
Where no living flesh can judge your deeds
May your tortured soul rest in peace.
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