Heart

(Written October 13, 2012, at 4:24 am.)

Stab its muscle.
Let spill its contents
On the indiscernible context.

As it empties and becomes still,
Let the colour of its contents
Seep into the topography of its paradigm.

Most parts will return
To their black, white and grey,
But some will shone a pale pink,
Some will breathe a bright red,
Others will groan under a heavy scarlet.

Look at these coloured parts.
They are all that mean anything,
The ones that retained any of it.
They absorb the liberated energy.

The pink ones will pulsate ostentatiously,
Trying to draw attention to mild matters
That once mattered.

The red ones will throb at a steady pace,
Not complaining,
But never forgetting.

The scarlet ones will barely be able to beat
Under their own weight.
They are too significant to forget,
And too dangerous to remember.

Faces will carve each other
In thick streams
In the scarlet.

Faces will stare at each other
Through thick streams
In the scarlet.

They will each feel diminished
In the gaze of the others,
And they will attempt
To extinguish themselves
For lack of definition.

If one triumphs,
And finds its way back into the muscle,
Let it.

Do it thus,
So I will know
Only if it's worth knowing.

Unfinished

(Written September 29, 2012, at 11:00 pm.)

Chew my flesh between your unforgiving teeth.
Forget the funeral and forget the wreath.
Massage my neck until it breaks.
Feed me the truth until it takes.

Kiss my fingers with unwilling lips.
In an undesiring embrace, take my hips.
Lay your palm on the lowest of my back.
Breathe once, then let the universe crack.

As the world crumbles, and you panic,
Hear my reluctant heart painfully tick.
Your head against my broken breast
Can unsatisfactorily go to rest.

Even as you dream of better realities,
Think of me as your terminal tease:
Nothing you ever wanted, yet all you had,
Painting the pathetic and singing the sad.

Feel my mouth against your chest,
Fail my desires in every test.
Scatter my pieces on every part of you,
As all the Love in the World smelts into Blue.

Breathe in the colour of the subsuming nullity.
Revel in yourself, and forget all of me.
Bite me, in farewell, one last time.
Leave me unfinished in your memory sublime.

Make or Break

(Written September 26, 2012, at 10:00 pm.)

You found some part of me I didn't know was there.
You gave it blood and you gave it air.
Then you left and it turned to stone,
And I learned that we are all alone.

You told me that when push came to shove,
I could always rely on love.
Then you moved on from this,
And proved that transience is part of bliss.

You taught me hope and taught me to believe,
That when we are willing to give, we will receive.
Then you showed that willingness to give doesn't last,
And the best can often be lost in the past.

You convinced me that unconditional exists,
And through ups and downs, love persists.
Then you proved that forgiveness is an order tall,
That mistakes of a moment can end it all.

And I'm just now wondering:

Am I better off having felt your kiss?
Or worse off aware of what I miss?

Am I better off knowing that there's love in hearts?
Or worse off knowing it ends as easily as it starts?

Did you make me?
Or did you break me?

Dead Stars

(Written September 24, 2012, at 3:15 am.)

Every dead star in the sky is us.
No longer extant,
But reaching across time to the present.

Friendship

(Written August 13, 2012, at 1:40 pm.)

Friendship is an interesting proposition,
Meant to share in one's true condition.
But life brought cynicism, and cynicism reserve,
And reserve many bumps along a presumed smooth curve.

Many thought to be fixtures walked out with a strut.
And I was left bumbling with a "what the fuck" and a "but."
Guards went up like a dick on the blue pill.
And I'd sooner freeze than learn to chill.

Yet somehow friends find a way through,
And just when you want to be alone they stick like glue.
Maybe the glue will fade and they will also be lost.
But for now I lurrrrrve them with abandon and accost.

Time

(Written August 11, 2012, at 2:17 am.)

I can feel time seep through my pores.
Does it pass through unaffected?
Like light through a vacuum?
Or do I change it the slightest bit?
Some little traces of me scattering through a confused eternity?

I can feel it on my skin and in my flesh and bones.
It tingles.
Is time like a ghost,
Long dead,
Unseeable,
Unknowable,
Lost and trying to find its way through the universe,
Seeking its fun in making people squirm
As it runs through them?

And when it sometimes stops,
An unshakable chill settles comfortably
In the molecules of air closest to me.
The little bubble of warped time
Throwing reality off balance.

But the bubble pops,
And I'm left wondering
If cessation of eternity
Could end an eternity of cessation.

Death (2)

(Written on August 6, 2012, at 6:50 am.)

death descends in the form of half a black label
death descends in the form of nothing good on cable
death descends in the form of taboo acts
death descends in the form of inalienable facts

death descends in waves of breathlessness
death descends in waves of inexplicable caresses
death descends in waves of sickness of stomach
death descends in waves of unfathomable luck

death descends in gulps of ill advised sips
death descends in gulps of desirous lips
death descends in gulps of more than one untenable thought
death descends in gulps of something surreptitiously sought

death descends in the blanket of a rusted mesh
death descends in the blanket of a confused flesh
death descends in the blanket of an uncertain dawn
death descends in the blanket of a heart recently torn

death then escapes with a little more than much less
death then escapes with the slightest tease of success
death then escapes with a wicked smile on its face
death then escapes leaving behind barely a trace