Farrel (Ryan Herlihy) | My Dream is Your End

There are no women, no children, and no babies

I am always alone

It seems the only time

I see another human being

Is in battle

The only form of communication


Is gunfire


And I have romanticized this language

To the point of arousal at its sound

I am so eloquent when I pronounce

My proliferation of dialogue

Comes in magazines of 30


That’s the caliber of my argument

The only topics for discussion

Are survival and resources


I have no friends and no family

My lover is my rifle

Which I embrace tightly at night

And she is worn out

From being fingered all day

And I am tired too

I am tired of fighting

I am tired of killing

And I just want to sleep

But this ammunition’s box I lie on

Does not constitute a bed

The pictures from my wallet

And a cold can of food

Are not a family dinner

And a hole in the ground is not a home



I didn’t ask for it to be this way

But I won’t apologize for enduring

Fiery skies did not burn my eyes

Preparation was my version

Of capitalization

While you prayed in the streets

My machete was my savior

I’m alive because I never stopped to cry

Grit, is not just something you eat


I think sometimes

The lucky ones died

Because I miss the sunlight

Conversation are my new dirty fantasy

Desperate to hear someone’s voice

That I don’t have to kill

Memories are my only pleasantries

I don’t eat meals I choke down sustenance

And if I wake up to another rat shitting on me

I might just kill myself



How do you rebuild society

When you’ve been reduced

To an animal

Killing and scavenging

All for the sake of personal survival


You can watch a video of this poem in the 2014 Multimedia section.


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