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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