The Voice that Betrayed

By Dominic Lyne

'The Voice that Betrayed' contains eighty poems written by Dominic Lyne between 2011 and 2013. Focusing on subjects such as the breakdown of a relationship and drug abuse, this collection of poems charts the author's emotional life during a two year period.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dominic Lyne
• Release date: May 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310181078

Dominic Lyne

Dominic Lyne is a London based writer and artist. Influenced by authors such as Dennis Cooper, Bret Easton Ellis, and William S. Burroughs, he writes works of transgressive fiction that aim to shine a light upon the darker sides of humanity and society. He is a diagnosed schizophrenic and this bleeds into his work and offers readers an insight into his world, the world he has created and mutated into his physical reality.

Book preview

The world turns.

Never ending rotation

through the void.

Year after year,

the passing of time,

of life and all that exists

within built up homes

and walled in sanctuaries.

Nothing remains the same,

and we should all

follow that law

as nature herself intended.

The past cannot be changed,

nor relived in reality,

nothing could have been done

in a different way.

#2

Crown yourself a king

and rule over a court

of nothing that can be sustained.

A dying throne centred

upon a sodden earth.

The gates at the top of

a pit of dirt.

Such a glorious anthem

will be played with silence

as the Nation dies

and fades away.

The ghosts of the past

yearn for a present,

whilst their future succumbs

to the yawn of the void.

So sleep my dear tired Earth,

for all that once was

is now nothing

but a memory.

#3

Then it all comes crashing down,

falling around you like snow,

or the blackened ash of genocide.

It takes time to build something,

but only a second to destroy it.

Death always so much easier

than the life we all live.

Fed up. Tired.

Tired of all this fucking bullshit.

This world of lies built like

a house of cards,

waiting for that one fatal blow,

the gust of fate’s breath as it

knocks us all to the ground.

In clumsy piles we lie,

contemplating the effort required

to build that house again.

We know it is pointless but

we rebuild anyway.

#4

So we all rot.

Tired and alone.

Trapped inside this decaying form

with no means of salvation.

Too scared to go.

Too scared to fight

for the freedom of self

every soul is entitled to.

I’m tired. So tired.

The approaching future

a black void of fear.

Am I alone?

Yes.

Always alone. Locked.

This tomb my soul’s prison.

Does anyone care?

No.

#5

Why bother? Why bother with me? Slit this fucking throat and watch the blood pour like a crimson river of staled dreams and stunted self worth. I am nothing. I am but a soul trapped inside a stolen body. A virus, an intruder. Scripting the life of this body sentence after sentence whilst caring not for its existence. I don’t exist. I am a concept. I am a lie.

What’s the fucking point? Really, what is it? All these words dictated into my head to help the darkness enter into your world, but in the absence of its voice I