Map of Woe

Oh, so you want to mold me into your version
Pin here, tuck there, cut and slice, stitch and staple…
Rake those nails over my skin to form legend and compass, title and scale –
A map that creates me in your image
Like warm comfort swirling in that coffee cup, which you clutch with wrinkled claws
Cherub liquid, caramel, burns smooth and strong, my, my, my
As it passes between your omissive lips…
Aren’t those tremors from a fault line?
Deep within your chambers full of withdrawal landmines?
As it passes between your dismissive lips…
My anguish is not your season –
Not your reason, fashion, flame or passion
So you peel the irises from my pain-petaled eyes
Attempt to kill my shadow that occults your sun
Unsoiled, unspoiled, soft-boiled is your narrative for grief
Stingy heart, superficial arms, machine mind embracing obscure, superficial tripe-
Send it to Wonderland in a backward lettered envelope, scented with relief
Oh the strange, unsightly spores
Tunneled deep into the moon
Even she…
Grief is much less trendy in June
Doesn’t meet your complications
March your mind, steer your eyes, set the tone according to strict regulations
Where’s that damn rabbit?
He’s sure taking his time
I suppose it’s all in the mechanics, not the rhythm or the rhyme…
The questions he’s posing, pomegranate letters dripping down his sign…
Unfair expectations swarm a grief-laden sky
Pick a petal, make a wish, pick a petal, make a wish –
I’ll wake up? I’ll not wake up? I’ll wake up?…
Deaths appearance has led me into this stark forest of confusion
Is it acceptable to mourn the lost when a bad circumstance was of their making?
I hide my grief
I hang my head
I am a sliver of a shadow wandering through this bleak, grey desert –
No sun, no rain, no wind, no fire, no spirit, no direction
I’m ripe with secrets; Can I tell you?
The empathy is fading from your eyes with every next word that I share
Conclusion flaring fast, hard flames licking
As if the poor choice made the person –
And so I’d rather sleep with my despair
Get your compass, get your ruler, change my title and direction
Add citations, altitude and border; Shape me into your scene of a faultless disorder
I’ve always loved the dark, with its edgy, unkempt eyes
It’s made me a breathless lover, running my fingers along its thighs
It sings and it lulls and I long to roam
But here, now, this wildest woe that webs –
I wish I could find the moon
So that her light could lead me home