The Bundle

November 4, 2016
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The bundle of death and violence,
Wrapped in paper thin enough to tear between my fingers,
Passed between us teenagers young enough to be freshman,
Seen by my younger brother as he engraves the practice in their mind.
We laugh and chuckle as we inhale the noxious bundle,
The bundle that ruins our life,
that would cause our deaths by my neighbor’s elementary school son,
that forces me to grab the gun from my family's cabinet.

I couldn’t help it, I wanted it, I wanted to feel the ecstasy it gave me,
The feeling of tranquility and being free from life’s worry.
I wanted that feeling back, the feeling my friends stole from me,
The bundle that gave me these feelings,
No longer will it be taken by them for they have been freed from life itself,
By my bloodstained hands.

Little did I know the one closest to me was the actual thief,
The little brother that was slowly engraving this into his mind,
Instead engraved it into his lungs.
The freshly lit clump that would prey on me, preyed on my brother instead.
Never had I thought that the the innocent would be just as corrupt.
Even worse, the innocent lives that have been ended due to the noxious clump.
The lives I have stolen.
Then I smiled.

I smiled at the fact that I was emotionless.
The fact that the tears of the families of my closest friends made me feel nothing.
The same families I once called my own were no more than strangers.
I have become an autonomous machine with one objective.
Fulfill my desire of this wrap of death.

This is the effect of the ecstasy I desired.
No longer was I the boy that persevered in school
That thought education was the key to success.
I was now the harbinger of death,
I carried the thick scent of corruption and violence.
So did the younger one.
Not only was my white cloth, which was stained long ago and is now blackened
My younger brother’s was also.

To think a small plant packed deeply into its sheathe
Could move mountains, or make them.
These mountains of money, bodies, corruption, and betrayal.
These mountains I began to make with my dirtied hands.

Deeper into the abyss I fell along with the brother I dragged down.
We no longer lived in the peaceful lives we once lived.
We lived in the Hell created by many others.
Even now we stare death in the face and cackle because we hold our objective.
We silently say to death, “Let me die in the clouds.”

In the peak of my darkness, a silent plea slowly scratched at the back of my mind.
It was not the “family” that beat me senseless so I could be bound by blood,
It was the family that followed my senselessness.
His stained cloth was not completely covered.

Then I realized that it was not some other idol or figure that edged him to his noose.
It was his own flesh and blood.
His protector, elder, teacher, friend,
His Brother.

I set the bread crumbs that he followed.
I taught him the ways to engrave everything I did into his soul.
Yet, I did not care.
The path of blood, death, and the neverending void was clearly set for him,
But the small ray of hope, which God himself had sent down upon him,
Stimulated his senses.

I was older yet feeble compared to my younger brother.
One who could wrench himself from darkness by his own bootstraps.
I could not.
He spewed out the darkness that infested his guts,
And bleed out the violence engraved in his veins.
I could not
I was taller than him, more built, and older,
YET I could not.

Ashamed of myself I review my life of death and blood,
I wanted to repent for my sins,
But my cloth was embroidered using the hairs of the deceased as yarn
And their teeth as the needle.
Across are burned into my skin was the sin I carried for life.
No longer could I return to the light like my brother.
I was now one with the void and the ferry was the bundle that carried us too and fro.

My brother left this unsatisfying Hell after brushing clean his cloth,
But mine with all its unique designs stayed blackened.
He tried to help me, but I refused.
For my fate had been sealed since the day I pursed my lips and sucked death from its sheate.
Forever stained I remain in the void
Until the day that my sins are baptised in blood.
The day I pray to come soon.

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