Dreaming Frankenstein

The creature that you shaped
still lives in old memories.
Still reads obscure Tolstoy
and listens to sad music
no-one else can hear .

He ponders starry nights
names each constellation
and contemplates the river,
the cold fragmented sunlight
in each genesis of morning.

Sometimes the Judas past
will gather him blindly.
And he`ll hear the song
you left him
twisting like a razor,
as the ghost of electricity
howls in the bones
of his face

Whoever you are now
you know he will find you.
He is the sound of footsteps
trickling through midnight.
And a stranger at the bar
in a thin disguise of shadows
may raise a glass and smile
God and the devil
are raging inside him.

And you would tear out his eyes.
You would silence his tongue
and damn him to hellfire.
He is what you made him,
in your image and likeness
all you have become.