Frozen Fingers Furling

Were I to give evidence of the depth of my pain
To spew forth the vile atrocity that is this heartache
To fling back my head and howl this unflinching hell, with every muscle, tendon, bone…
Then those whom gather in my lonely corner; The forsaken, withered angels –
Would they feel my heart slamming into steel, glass and concrete, on the way down?
To strike the cement
To splatter on the sidewalk
Crushed by this fleshless entity that we all seek
Despite its tendency to snatch back all that it gives to us

– A winged heart and starburst eyes, that peer down on a rosy dream, while soaring high above heaven –  

Is any creature listening? Any… thing?
Expel this numb death from beneath my skin, having taken root 
After loves cruel, unblushing fingers left me gutted…

Dandelion eyes, spitting helicopter seeds of possibility
Floating around me everywhere, when I met you
Roots reaching to the sky, in my mind
Two flames passion crashing, setting fire to the sea
Words like filmy kisses
Desert heat like a satin ribbon, snaking down my spine
While skin and musk, aching, arching and sliding, played in my head 
Like on a big screen at a summertime drive-in
Eden without sin…
But this, this was out of my depth –
Malengine blood in your sulphuric veins
Brutal evisceration –
13 hours after God breathed eternity, you began murdering your soul in perverse ways
So disquieting that you bruised the sun
Until the sky turned black

Literary masterpiece crumpled into a morceau, by a thousand movements of your hands
Papercuts and ink stains
Simple totems that point toward your destructive appetite; All that you wait to devour
Despite the cost, the loss, the pain
Melting down, over this valley like candlewax
Like blood down a tv screen during a horror movie, syrupy-slow and sickly sweet
You were listening to me, but I caught your eyes looking over there
And where they fell, your mind followed
I know that road well; I know that little town and all of the noise in it –
Knew it before you came
Before all of this was even a blip on your radar, and you became a damn fool –
Wouldn’t let go of all of it, to hold on to me
And the lies that you bled fed the ground until even the weeds died
Your warrior way is no longer a part of the red road
So take your arrows and feathers to your prayer sticks
And humble yourself before your god
Before the last of your shadow disappears and you’re gone
Too venomous to keep in my heart
Too mangled in spirit to be a ghost
The only whispers in the air that linger of you –
Your attempts to make me the cause of your effect
To expect me to be a savior yet anoint me a demon
Your memory?… the sound of metal in my ears
Scraping down my chalkboard spine

Self Study I: Suffer

Seeds Sewing Sentiments

This quiet desperation
These camera lens eyes have developed fractured tears
That rush like a furious rainfall running down the stairs
After curling the edges of filmstrips piled high in the attic; Yellowed memoirs
Often left unfinished, though not for a lack of trying
Unseasoned years littered with coffee and cigarettes, bent and tangled dreams, and the chill of injured shadows…
I have built myself into a mishmash of corridors that lead into limbo –
Paper mache covered cliches keep me safe from myself
I need to find my eyes again
Dig them out from beneath these mounds of frozen ground
Where earth and carcass of bird are tethered solid until spring
Feathers spread like delicate pointy daggers, or barricades, or compasses
Innocence and bittering rippling in the wind…
This deadness is quieter than falling snow –
Tastes musty on my tongue, and my fingers are blue
Not because it is minus ten degrees, but from holding onto the coffin
It’s backwards, exactly –
Others push the coffin away, while in dreams I wander among lush sprays, of which to adorn mine
But I guess that it is with the unknowns that I feel the most alive
My arms full with the familiar plumpness of unpleasantness, and a disappointment bouquet
Dead petals dripping soft darkness…
It is my corrosive tendency to take the route of punishment –
I take my traumatism and my wounds seriously
Plaster and stitching needle, antiseptic, apologies, and lilies by my bedside
To cobble the disrepair that’s maliciously beautiful…
I can’t bear the feeling of failing you
I can’t suffer you leaving
I pinch and pierce, dig and claw, shove you back against the thorns
Keep you far from me
Devour seed, sever roots, irrigate weeds
Reopen scar tissue with pendulating fingers, and an orphidian tongue…
Dance with tomorrows funeral; Lime liquor on my lips, as they feed the air with sloppy syllables
While my incoherent fingers knock over the pawn –
And it rolls across the checkered floor, bouncing off of rooks and horses, like a flailing top in a hedge maze…
I want to stuff my bones with sugared stars
Fill my veins with cherried passion
Leave the rotting of these seasons to the stones and lambswool –
Wrap it snug and deep, weigh it down, to quiet my temptations, so I can sleep…
The bones are gone
There are no bones to hold me
The tongues hold on
The stories that they told me –
A thousand burrs in a field, among the crumbling stalks
Beneath the threadbare sky
Dot my grueling mind
Estranged lips spitting dandelion parachutes, that float and land, to seed
Malignant crust, that sprouts cholera mind
Cemetery eyes

Graves in Rows

In the sickroom; This dread abode…
Hateful season, how you mock me
Sooty angels pry into my dreams with caustic, razor fingers
Of which they use to riven the last tatters of hope
Place their decayed eyes in my direction, as gauzy lips of melancholia, stone cold
Are pressed against my forehead
While they trim their hemlock wings, leathery feathers piling up like the brittle stars
That you’ve left inside a thousand green bottles on top of the brick wall in the back yard –
Graves in rows
Taking up too much space in my heart –
Rows so long that they blur into shapes of useless mouths, sinful lips; Like yours
Spitting words of which you’ve casually dissected all meaning –
Sliced away its resplendent, precious luster
Little by little as the toilsome years bit deep
When a mothers wounds were handed down as bitter candy
Love embalmed with cyanide fractures; Eggshell fault lines from preexisting umbilical instability
Goading life to swipe away at your spirit during such thankless decades of drought
A heritage of malnutrition and insanity
Until you found your god in a bottle
Disassembled and parched; You drank him in
Razed the roof until you rattled the dead –
Annoyed; They screeched against the cinnamon sun that rose from booze-soaked veins through your pores
Oozed from your clammy skin…
Bloated pupils drift aimlessly; Jellyfish sans tentacles –
Ricochet in slow motion off of violent irises
Like blobs in lava lamps camped out on top of a seventies television set
As you slump back on the couch, stare at its blank screen
Like it’s a wormhole to Persephones sanctum
A haven where the bones sing you lullabies that empty your head of its torturous pain –
Your affliction, boring through blood and bone in frenetic mastication…
Drop by drop, liquid sex sliding down your throat, until moony delirium
Did you find a gods perspective from your hazy alcove?
This wasting away…
Until you have no care, no concern for precious things
Stepping over the cusp, raging demon; You have left your eyes behind
You have cut your face into my greatest fear
Torn your lips into a snarling ferocity that spits our memories into ashes of tears
My heart, my spirit disintegrates into suicide wounds
The air swirls as Mercy descends, leathered wings curling round her…
There is no place for me in her sooty embrace
I’m not even a shadow in our photographs
I hear you humming in the other room, as if you’re at peace with our final goodbye
I hear you set the bottle down
I used to think that your indifference to my feelings was your wounded child lashing out

Feed me gasoline
Then set me on fire
My pain, my flames, our demise –
The only light in your dead eyes

Glass of water at your lips