Must you die, nemesis?

Must you die, my nemesis?
Swallowing this capsule of regret,
Shoved down your blowhole,
By your nemesis, the me?

Must you die here, arch enemy?
In this blue lagoon, with my harpoon,
Slitting your four chambered heart into two,
For more than just an iota of my retributive satisfaction.

Shall I smile the smile of a hunter worth his while?
Or shall I lament the loss of a deserving adversary?
Shall I lick my thus-vindicated wounds?
With this tongue that longs no more for the taste of your blood.

Is the glare of the photographer’s smoldering flash,
Hurting your conjunctiva?
And does it bother you, when I dream,
Of your skeleton suspended from the roof of a museum?

Would you ride the zeppelin of my desires, dearest foe?
Now that yours has succumbed, to my obdurate will, but still,
It’s not as if you didn’t go down with honor,
Anarchist of the highs seas, you were mighty even in death.

Against whom shall I now draw,
Conspicuously meticulous and creative plans of destruction?
Who shall visit my blood-smeared dreams now?
The visions of whom shall now drape my sanity?

You left me without an offspring and intestate,
And my hatred incubator is empty once again,
But farewell, nemesis, may we meet in other dimensions,
Farewell and rest in peace.



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