Ghost In The Rising Sun Poem by Lucas Akkadian

We'd once stood in darkening corners of
out crumbling house and quenched the
cracked floor with soft
summer words that seemed to
silently creep out
and explode
on the floor like
tiny crystal bombs
of cold hard hail

With your contagious mental armor
you seemed to parody a holy roman knight in
breastplate and fingered iron gauntlets sharply
prodding a hardening heretic who
refused to speak out

I was a nihilist and
didn't believe
in justified conflict
for fear of annihilation

But I was going to burn eternally and
didn't care to hear why
as your blunt words of
pleading parental reason
seemed only to sharpen my
deliberate indecision
like spires of a city wall
climbing endlessly

And then time lapsed as
the earth turned away and
the sun came around again
and eager spider webs jumped
open in double time like medieval
road signs pointing to the cemeteries
of medieval churches

And I find myself comfortably
numb at angst ridden seventeen
a silent priest of mental anarchy
reading Nietzsche on a stolen
laptop screen and desperately
scrawling down further plots of
mental erosion on zig-zags and
mirrors too small for complete
reflections of me

Still yearning for something to emulate
the bliss you'd claimed was
shared by all pious travelers on
the very path to salvation that
has taken you
this long
to explain to me.