Hamlet Complex Of Hope

Hamlet Complex Of Hope
© Surazeus
2023 01 02

Trudging dark narrow streets in midnight rain, 
heart hollowed out like the large river stone 
eroded by rain for millions of years, 
Richard climbs winding stairs among wet maples 
to hilltop park overlooking the city 
that shimmers blood-red in the purple night. 

Face stiff with stoic fortitude of rage 
from soul-searing pain in his skull and spine, 
Richard stares at blurry glimmer of lights 
from countless windows in towers and homes 
where people gather at tables of food 
to celebrate the Christmas holiday. 

My drunk father beat my mother to death 
ten years ago this precious family night 
so now he sits warm and well-fed in prison 
while I work long hours in the car garage, 
earning just enough cash for food to eat 
with no chance to start my own family. 

Stark searing agony of crippling pain 
grips my skull tighter than the monkey wrench 
twisting to crush all pleasure from my flesh 
with slowly contracting pressure of lust 
that gnaws my knotted gut with hungry rage 
throbbing up my spine with electric jolts. 

The endless fraught of years allotted me 
stretch far before my hesitating feet 
with bleak expansion of endless hard work 
that conflates harsh hours to decades of pain 
across vast waste land in struggle to live 
eternity through never-ending routine. 

Like huge rock Sisyphus must push upward 
toward unreachable goal of wealthy peace, 
my burden of existence crushes me 
with toilsome weight of duty I must cope 
to vitiate this fragile body of flesh 
which executes effort just to survive. 

No light of hope to guide my vagrant soul 
gleams faintly in dark tunnel of my life 
other than mind-blinding light of harsh pain, 
so I must integrate this suffering ache 
as element of faith which fuels quest 
to pierce my heart with thrust of final death. 

All efforts to assuage this agony 
with blunt aggression of nerve-searing blows 
fail to break this body that traps my soul 
within mind-searing Hell of daily labor, 
save to enhance bone-slashing glow of pain 
so deep in my mind I fall in the void. 

Each vain attempt to crack my fragile frame 
enough to dissipate my soul to nothing 
exacerbates sharp agony of life 
till pain flushes pleasure to my dark core 
and blasts of grief anguish into false joy 
that I still feel enough to know I live. 

Backing off from cliff of insanity, 
as we sways dizzy with vertigo buzz, 
Richard turns away from the leap of faith, 
stricken by the Hamlet Complex of hope, 
and wanders to the old wood river bridge 
where he falls asleep in shadow of death.