Romanorum Reject

"...Men were draped with medals for killing other men yet imprisoned for loving one another"
(Morrissey; Autobiography, p.200)

Nestled against the cornerstone of a local church, He awaited him
Winter’s evening breeze blew through the abandoned streets of Beechworth
In place of tumbleweed, discarded newspapers drifted upon soft turbulence
The rustling oak trees drenched in topaz hues,
Harbouring old crows
their vitality hanging from mere roots
...his heart both shuddering from chills,
...and from fear

After comfortless sighs and worrisome murmurs, his lover appeared beyond the expanse of the horizon,
A mere flame flicker; illuminated behind the glistening lamp of space-time,
Hades in fine fashion
From embers to field fires,
The young man came to realise his muse was not alone
Stagnant scenery welcomed the quick approaching of one man and many,
Definition heightened; he could make out pitchforks and torches waning in his direction,
Alas, his lover was riding the anticipation out with complete contentment
Suddenly, the man stops running...
Pauses for a moment...
Turning around to face his pursuers,
Unbuttoning his shirt
He reveals the immaculate anatomy as Achilles’ prodigy
The minions of Hell come to a halt
Paces away from utter salvation,
Their veils of bigotry corrupting their sight
Like moles surrounding fertile earth attempting to terminate yet another roses bloom,
He falls to his knees...
as he witnesses amongst them all,
his precursor standing in eyesight of him

Within all but a moment...

A loud laugh was heard

The crows flew from their nests,
In respects

As Achilles the second, once again, fell to his end with honour

A large volume of liquidated rubies shown in mid flight before splattering near the fore bearers feet,
as he grips a blunt cleaver, with a psychotic expression scrawled upon him

Now known, the Father;
Purgatories Warden, responsible for recruiting the wanders of limbo to despise against his own

Gods wrath quaking within, as the other man grips the cornerstone to rubble
Yelling profanity towards the Mayor of Beechworth sparing to cremate his son,
but insults fell on deaf ears, as the laughter beckoning from ahead drowned out all sound
Soon enough, he fled...

Only to return a decade later
Standing where his lover laid
Bloodstains decorating asphalt in width
He reminisced the moment before his death,
A gift offered for him; by his lover,
before sacrificing his ideals in exchange for his lovers safety,
he sacrificed everything
all...but a smile
a brief pause was made,
and a smile was delivered,
whether it reached his counterpart or otherwise, will remain in the grave; or lack of one

He wondered whether his final laugh was one of instant joy; contemplating the good run they both had
Or, of immense sadness; contemplating the good run they both could’ve had

Throwing his head to the sky
he places a single
empty
glass
bottle
upon the ginger patch
digging within his rucksack,
retrieves a small bouquet of daffodils,
excavates 10
and shoves them into the bottle

He walks adjacently from his mourning,
where 10 represented the days that were left until they were wed
a grin stretches over his lips
as he paces away to MayDay Hills
grasping a rusty, stained cleaver
daring to confront the warden in a final desperate attempt to ease his mind



what’s left of one anyway.