iMonster

iMonster

by: Adam Cox

Where have I been all this time?

Where am I now—here and now!?

I recall no memories, no joys, no pains… How?

Looking at these yellow-tinged hands and arms, I feel a sense of overwhelming confusion,

It is the awakening—mine—that seems to have brought forth a dark paradox.

My eyes drip at my chest, veins pulse visibly through my limbs, and my hair seems to flow off my head…

Is this the curse of God, or am I simply fate’s plaything to be stigmatized for the rest of my existence?

And as I contemplated such wild thoughts and omens, I saw his face…

*rage* It was he whom hath brought me forth—sent me to my eternal suffering.

Hate, love, sadness… Which of these should I feel?

Part of me wishes to snuff his life out like a flame in the ceaseless rain on such a night as this,

And yet part of me wishes to thank him for this chance at life regardless of things amiss.

However, this is a sadness that may endure me,

Onward I trudge, for I must be truly free,

From his grasps, God, and all boundaries which bind man to this accursed abode,

I must advance ahead, carrying this demonic corpse a ways down the road.

*creak* *snap* *thud* My feet grip the ground as I slowly make my way through the mud.

The endless night’s rain presses its dreadful authority over my soul,

Thoughts of blood and death rush through my mind, and I am overtaken with an uncontrollable desire to stamp my existence into the mind of a helpless victim…

I am damned,

I am forsaken,

I am… Alive,

Yet I am not.

Who am I?

What is “am”—what is existence?

Nature has acted on its own will, it is a deity of equal circumstance, but is not always fair,

For it creates life, but not all life equal,

And so it seems I am being punished for my past life to have risen in such a way.

If there truly be a God, then why have you turned your back on me?

Why have you breathed life into my being to this of all places?

I am bound to the Hell of men’s slaves, for I cannot enjoy the same pleasures,

Life and all that which keeps it afloat… This is something I cannot treasure.

And so my ultimatum: I will find myself, but if I cannot enjoy life, why should another?

No… I shall act as death’s hand—its light-bringer to expose my plight,

With nothing to call my own—no mother,

I will claim darkness as my one true light.

Hell, you have no claims on my soul for none exists for me,

For my calling is elsewhere, trapped in this endless purgatory.

So begins my “life,”

One I vow to legitimize through a union of blood and sorrow,

One I vow to create in the stead of others’,

God, how far have I fallen from your light so low,

All will weep on these days to come, but none more than of my creator’s brothers…