Spasms

Slipping into Silent, Sempiternal Slumber

Howling, rabid emptiness chases the velvet night into a wildfire
Like the tall meadow grass is set to flame, when a wildebeest races across it, and coal-flung hooves collide
Clack spurs breeze spurs spark; Ignite…
And you, you seek refuge from your demons in this industrial, urban cave
Lean over the dark-stained, diamond-patterned, leather-clad and red velvet bar
Fidgeting fingertips drumming contemplative brooding into the stale air
Amaretto sour in a lowball, like a smooth, solid paperweight cupped in your caressing palm –
There was a time, in your glazed reverie… a warm, solid breast cupped in your caressing palm…
Oh those starburst eyes, spun from star-death kissed dreams, engulfed in yesterdays closely held far-aways –
Those young, ripe aspirations, like invincible silver-screen tutti frutti morsels
Almost turned the mountains to gold
And now, reconciled and bored; You pull at frayed, tender threads
Ply the mocking hands of fate with slurred quotes from unfinished poems that tremble
As you recount needle-sharp trials, that left clichéd burnt dreams rife with ghost souls –
The aftermath of cruel, crushing disappointments
It doesn’t actually matter how you got to here
To this here; sitting at this bar, belly warmed by this Italian-crafted aphrodisiac that melts the webs in your mind
Lets your skin breathe and loosens the macraméd bondage of your tongue
Until there are no walls, no blurs nor lines to censor the blunt within your words
You consider that while you are typically congenial; Blunt will do just fine at the moment
As into the liquor-fumed air you direct your attention toward fates tyrannical existence
Launch a stern admonishment to remove its sadistic tentacles and reacquaint past with present –
The babies breath with the lamb
Reignite the tingling anticipation you once felt up and down weathered and stiff vertebrae seams
Fill your head with origami clouds that spin your mirages into jeweled wings
Which carry your shoe-boxed reflections, metaphors, notions and half finished creations
Into this current, resigned, vanilla existence
Carve the dim air surrounding you into the dazzling fireworks that swirl through your imagination
Like the wheel of life nailed to that stubborn tree in the corner of the yard
Its spinning needle spitting sparks that heat your blood –
Snap your gloom like crispy bones
Burn into your skull, to relieve the pressure that your contorting fingers can’t massage away –
Husk that ritual, of fingers to temple, that provides an impotent mute at best, of the riotous, tolling spasms that throb
Or at least maintain some semblance of mediocre pain between the fingers and the booze…
It’s funny how no one knows your name
You’re like a smeared chalk outline on the wall
But your face kind of resembles someone that someone thought they saw somewhere, some time ago
You suppose that’s better than nothing
And return your attention to the molten liquid that loosens clenched vocal chords
Considering that possibly no one would think you sane if your lips moved in an attempt to scold demons
Despite those same cynics revering a faceless, bodiless specter called karma –
Of whose evidence you’ve never witnessed, and whose name you’ve spat toward hell
However, you have wintered with fate, its stingy, cruel, decrepit fingers twisting, squeezing your hand
Dragging you into its bone yard of the puppeteered forsaken
Where it climbs on the backs of demons, its egg-sized, wobbly eyes and arthritic claws digging beneath their thick skin –
It goads them to suck the juice from lottery ticket souls until they wither into shrunken tombs
To harbor nothing more than disappointment, faded eyes and sawdust…
Demons have known you well, dwelling in your mind, and in your house
You’ve seen them creep from behind the curtains
Seen them drag their dead limbs across the room when sun dust settled and the shadows fell
Heard the bed groan as they climbed in beside you
Hissing, yammering creaky-breathed soliloquies about a wasted world
Hammered into your pounding head lotus dreams unfolding 13 years of nightmares
Where crow, feather, beak and bone foretold that this apocalypse was your Everest, and –
“Another?” disrupts, returns the present, so you study your glass in its knuckled perch
And decide that there comes a time when fate must learn that you’ve had your fill
“Whiskey, neat, I’ve had enough of the former,” you remark, as you conclude that we each have our own demons
Some haven’t entered battle yet, some have already lost, some are still putting up a fight, while some have won
And insane can be a lovely distraction; You’ve no quarrel with her allure
So they can be damned, with their pointy fingers and clucking tongues, you think
But now, it’s time to scoop up hell and send it raining down
While you stand firmly on the ground, and on the brink

Abberations

Of Obscured Origin

Those eyes, empty mirrors telling honest lies
Apparitions sucked out all their life –
Gnarled, wasted fingers played a lullaby, morose notes beckoning your soul
Too late… eyes sewn shut and withered wings, the angels start to rust –
Damned to perch on headstones of the living dead
You pry open all your wounds, mesmerized with how your veins bleed acid rain
Standing on sacred ground, you sacrifice what others beg to keep
Reach inside and rip your heart from its bone asylum; Harvester of the absurd –
The banshees and the demons laugh and flirt with wicked sighs. Make a joke of me
Twisted flames melt your metal cage while you hold the key –
As all the crows are falling from the sky
Littering the fields with their tiny bones, soft among the brittle leaves and thorny stems
I’ll make my way to your resting place. Sleep upon your dandelion-finial grave –
Dig into the musky dirt and push it to the side, so I can rest my sorrow and my body close to you
Deaths alluring seduction your primitive desire – loamy eyes pursue its providence
It is not for me to maim or desecrate, to dissuade your hyperbolic love affair with the cessation of being…

And time unfolds what’s true, like rivers carve the stones. Like moss climbs up the trees and flesh dissolves to bone
And pain reveals what’s real, like shadow swallows sun. Like damage erodes sweet and tears eulogize what’s gone
And it is not for me, to try to hold you here. To mutilate your aberrations –
To calm my deepest fears

There is no peace tonight, in tender dream or prayer. The ghosts sleep in our bed, between you and me
Where my love sanctifies, your forlorn love impales, provokes our demise, without lament or wail
Deep in your caramel eyes, dark with brooding ruin, you’ve already gone to murder the light
In this specters dance, the grass is dying beneath your feet, the trees are weeping to the mountains –
The stones turning to dust, and the crows, their carcasses rotting in lovely desolation, are so delicate in flux
Time does not heal all wounds, its sutures rupture, unravel and assault
The heart becomes a tomb, decimated with misshapen visions, shadows of false prophecies
No footprints in the doorway, the flowers left to weed, windows smeared with seasons storms –
Black feathers stuck in blood upon the shattered glass
And all you speak is pain, all you love is woe, all you do is murder
You left long ago
This ruin is mine to tend, its desolation deep, these rusty, empty hours lacerate my bones
I watch you walk into the reclusion of your pain
You drink your torment down, then retch it back again
My hands slide down your skin, to calm your fevered grief
But in your frenzied ills your madness screams against relief
The twisted messengers in your mind, shrieking all your pain, mocking, taunting, brutalizing
Jagged beaks pecking at your last article of faith; Cannibalizing
And no one understands you now — appreciates the way you burn
They set fire to your fire, goading your pathologies from grotesque into perverse
The damage in the air; Your disenchanted wounds culminate in desolation
Too long you’ve worn this skin; Too long lived as this wretched mutilation
Where Death murmurs like a wanton lover, with tender care made of shameless deceit and treason
To disfigure… to cheat you, steal you of yourself – take scalpel to your soul and reason

And time unfolds what’s true, like rivers carve the stones. Like moss climbs up the trees and flesh dissolves to bone
And pain reveals what’s real, like shadow swallows sun. Like damage erodes sweet and tears eulogize what’s gone
And it is not for me, to try to hold you here. To mutilate your aberrations –
To calm my deepest fears

Note: Funny story. In a hotel with a nice, clean, huge window. Woke up late at night, couldn’t sleep so took a few photos. In the morning I realized that “I ❤ U” showed in the photos. Looked at the window but no such message was anywhere.

Blue

Perforated Peephole Proposing Possibilities

You were in the midst of your demons, stumbling drunk on confusion and rage
I had taken on tragedy, tied it up and put it in a cage
The sea in your eyes was crashing
Battering, bruising and foul
I was swept up into that miserable pain; Cyclone
Wondering what I was going to do now
You were the web spinner of discontent, flailing lament and chaos so savage it devoured its own meaning
I was an inkblot out of proportion, a lonely distortion, and despair drenched in so much blue, it leaked into my shadow
We fed each other our mysteries, murdered simple solutions trying to fit the pieces
Your nails, staples and razor wire heart didn’t speak in my tongue
But modern love bores me with its fraying before fully flourishing
And I knew who you were beneath the webs that you’d spun –
Beneath the fallout from betrayal, from the most selfish, cruelest deeds
That left you a cut, bled, empty scarecrow lying facedown in the witchweed…
It took a relentless, thousand mile wilderness trek with magnifying glass schematics
To recall those first breathy exposures that we left mildewing in the attic –
Those lips scorching new paths by the moons creamy illumination
That cast out archival wounds and tiers of paraffin woe, melting once again
Fire dance, flames that fly, shooting through a ferris wheel sky
I thought that we could, but now the only question is… Why?
Now with nowhere to belong
No lasting impression, despite dragging my shadow to every sunlit wall
And so the suffering… the corn rots on the stalks, sucked dry of its juices by the baking sun
As am I, wasting away, parched and brittle from drinking an illusion all wrapped up in prettiness
Spitting dirt, my bones shallow, disintegrating, falling into themselves, weeping… dust…
My heart feasting on brittle duplicities
Meanings have no meaning but we pile them up, create teetering monstrosities
Sorrow and tragedy speak in obsidian hues
I’ve never seen beautiful until you
I’ve never known lonely could soak into my bones
Leave me writhing, begging and screaming to be left alone
I breathe but yet can’t catch my breath
I wonder, am I awake or am I dreaming yet?
We were a wildfire storm that chewed up a lilac-frosted sky
And I’ll never regret what others will never understand
Your name a wistful memoir on my lips –
On the brink, like an hourglass sucking down sand
When I recall how we decapitated muse and utopia
Reckless and colliding like a magnitude 13
We notched fouls and madness, crashed and burned
Set flame to the laudanum after we doused it with gasoline
Thus this catastrophe that I have become –
I dream hopeless gasps instead of tender sighs
Wandering through a landscape of charred, lonely ruins

Blue swallowing love
Begging, what, my dear heart, were we thinking of?