Sulphuric acid, in context,
creates a meme of intelligent art,
and in my wailing and my waning and my waxing heart,
I strip myself bare like Frank.
Only mine is a more corrupted gesture.
what will we do now, with this irreconcilable rift?
It is not in chains,
not chained to a lover.
I am free,
off her love’s givings.
Now the tree is bare,
like my wound,
Swallow these words,
let them shatter as they drop
from an overflowing cup
of speech; and swallow
these impurities, to make them go away.
I will not
obsess. I will not,
guess what goes through your attentive consciousness.
Italian speech permeates my audible experience;
and when I purge myself of tears,
it is your face I beg for.
It is the loving grasp
of your hand in mine,
it is a solid and tangible love
Not these drawn out speeches,
exchanges of words and tongues,
meaning essentially nothing.
Hard, factual love,
that you once offered me.
Transfiguratively I promoted celibacy & enthusiasm,
I gave you the swamp water you had asked me for,
when isolation had your tongue.
Fluidity of speech is not equivalent
to fluidity of thought;
With intent, I love you.
But I won’t succumb to your demands.
File, order, place into jars with colored caps
and masking tape,
So many reasons to communicate with you this way,
although I cannot see you reading all my dreams
You gouged my heart,
pried apart the scab wound from its flesh adhesive.
Then you fail to understand why I am this way with you,
Do you have no compassion;
are you so self-
you can’t see?
Restrain the tongue, my love;
let a little wisp of words
decorate the blank spaces in your mind;
Travel through time and within
the instantaneous array of God.
No use for vacancies; be warned,
the rattling snake will find you,
and pin you to your mistakes.
So seek the intelligence, memory, and will,
to stifle all non-interactions with God.
Decorate the blank spaces in your mind,
with sophisticated concepts of time and light.
I found myself alone,
in an echo chamber,
howling at her mirage,
hoping for her to
Offer me her heart,
the death of me.
I contemplated suicide,
could not constrain my appetite for death.
In a momentary glance I saw
of everything she ever loved
For this split second’s time,
eternity scraped by and I could feel
the hand of God
around my self.
Tallied; but not torn, not isolated.
With dampened iconographic caricatures,
blistering out through the morning light;
we gave angels beds; to lay their feet.
between breaths of sky,
And crying eyes,
We will walk,
through the garden,
to meet our maker.