by Jay Maul

Created on: January 22, 2011

They’ve watched me die a thousand times. They kill me over and over. They killed my thumbs. They killed my hands. They killed my arms and my legs. They ripped out my intestines and pronounced them dead as well. Death…so close at hand, yet so painfully and eternally elusive.

‘Death is an illusion,’ they whisper to me. ‘You will never die. We will kill you piece by piece by piece…forever.’

My crime was love. Love for life. Love for the uniqueness in others. Love for my love, because I could not let her love a man who was a coward. Nor would she.

God how I wish we would’ve never met, my love! Then the thousands of torturous deaths that I endure every day would only be physical pain, which is as pale as a dying candle in the searing light of the fiery death my heart endures when all it can think about is you and what has become of you!

But how could I live, my love, knowing what they were doing to others? How could I live knowing that I would’ve sent people to this fate? To beg, unheeded, for the pain to end, to stop dying inch by inch, only to be deemed unworthy of such a mercy?

How could I stand by and watch? But I did. I did! When they first came in the night; with their arms, with their dogs, with their guns. I told them where they could find the houses of sleeping families. I sent hell spawns to a scattering scream in the night; I sent slumbering innocence to slaughter.

Do stars feel it when they die? Do trees? ‘Yes‘, death whispers to me. ‘Everything feels it when I come. The trees; they scream. But you do not hear. Like the lion is deaf to the death rattle of the gazelle, so you are as your apathy renders you deaf to the fall of others.’

Sometimes, death is my friend. Sometimes, it is my true enemy. Sometimes it is a relentless, cruel fist; sometimes it is a lover’s caress. Sometimes it is a terrifying black wave coming to crush me, sometimes it is a delicate childhood creek carrying me to an ocean of bliss.

Oh death, I would be your lover forever if only you would carry me away from the torture they bring to my cell every day!

No! No, I wouldn’t. Because in those rare moments when I am allowed some peace I dream of her. I dream of my love, true love. She is standing in front of the sun. I walk towards her but she walks away…

How much blood can spill from a man before he truly dies? How much heartache can his heart handle before it tears itself apart? Hell

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