The Color of Our Truth

Cutting deep, desolation and despair
You’re the one I want to keep but this may have gone beyond repair
Our conception born from words, far into the early morning hours
We eagerly devoured the lovely chaos swirling round in our minds
Creeping through feral, demented forests – Sometimes running blind
Diving into madness… Are you there?
Can I reach out and tangle my fingers in your hair?
All these walls with busted corners
All these windows with no view
And the bells are ringing near the hill side
While the crows perch on the pews
Osteomancy underneath a nightshade sky –
Brittle bones born to die… Sliding through fingers smooth as glass
Knocking on the stones, spilling our mystery
Sucking the rain into their cracked, dusty fragments
To expel our story –
Sticky and messy, gritty and reserved, scraping and tearing…
Like trying to hold fire in a cage
The unfolding of our becoming… or undoing…
Lust lovely, love… bite the savage, sweet and sinister. Listen to them speak –
But the winds run dry and the bones won’t cry –
This vague shadow as empty as a scarecrow – a riddle swallowing itself
A feast without the famished…
Time cannot collapse destiny like water carves the stone
It’s been a long time coming, but now you don’t have to be alone
The color of our truth is blue
It sounds like your whisper in my ear
It smells like September
It looks like the gentleness in your fierceness
It feels like your heartbeat beneath my palm
And it tastes like laughter in tall glasses
There are glimpses in the valley now… traces, running down badger like Indian ink –
Compilations and coffee rings in the Underground…
Melting roadside tragedies on the Queens gate…
Indelible scriptures
That give way to the Sacred
While you surrender your burdens to me
Surrender your anguish, your pain
Let these wretched things fall away late at night in our musky catacomb
Where we tangle our bodies in luscious disarray
And your shoulder tempts my lips
The soft heat of you, ink and scars, delights that I find… your bodies lovely ornaments –
Priceless frescoes that are now mine to seek with euphoria, trace with awe
Desire with madness, taste with rapture
You are my poetry, whether written in blood or ink
Whether smudged in dark decadence, carved into my own skin, pouring from my wounded mind –
Or seeping from my tortured soul…
Layers upon layers, woven together, waiting for the sunflowers to anoint our rusted time
Your eyes are questions to my answers
Your soliloquies are my memories
Your beauty stirs me… makes me weep with desire
Steals the angels innocence and makes them swoon
Come be my sweetest lover, my deepest sorrow, my darkest moment
Lets stray to
Where our madness devours our sanity
Where our love is fierce and wild
Where home is in each others eyes
Tonight, come into my dreams and take me into yours…