THE SOLILOQUY OF BROTHER CAIN

I am Brother Murder.
My memories are the visions of the Dead:
The bomb mushrooming on the horizon;
The whistling bullet that sears the flesh;
The dark flower that blooms in reverse.

The blade plunged through my Brother’s chest
Pierced mine as well,
Shattering my soul like a mirror,
Cursing me to unrequited doom.

I have seen the world quake;
Atlantis sink and drown;
Sodom ignited under a pillar of flame
Until all that remained was Hell on Earth.

I have heard the Messiah doubt the Father,
And have felt the gelid kiss
Of the Devil himself.

I wield the Hollow Secret;
The Eerie Scheme.

You know me, yet deny me,
Until your lover slays your heart
And you can no longer abide her;
Or your King ends you far away from home,
Killing enemies you wish to understand;
Or your pulse, wallowing in sorrow,
Beckons the razor.

The Impaler was I.
The Ripper was I.

Grendel was my son;
The Dragon his mother.

Hitler—my madness.
Mengele—my doctor.
Jones—my preacher.
Manson—my movie star.

I am my Brother’s Keeper.
As are you.





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