I forget where I forgot you...
That place is a ghost land,
it's a dreamscape,
it's a netherworld,
where Styx was our path
and death was our guide
for into life we emerged
absent of one another.

When I remember that I don't remember you,
there is a gentle flutter of the heart
or the buoyancy of a smile uplifting the balloons of my cheeks
even the pull of earthly forces
a magnetism that I'm sure slams us into walls
across time and space
when we can't escape the force.
I'm forced to regret my shame.
My heart splits apart where glue,
like melting-hot pizza cheese,
can't protect the seams and my memory is suddenly
seamless.

There you are.
Cradled in a vignette.
It's snowing, and I've fallen over.
My friend cackles next to our Quasimodo snowman.
You fear that I am a basket of eggs
sliding toward the precipice
time counts down
you fade
I smile,
and tomorrow
your haunting is a stormcloud
the past comes raining down upon me...

"Good morning folks, it's 97.8FML; look's like we've got repressed memories. Visibility is low. There's a sharp depression chill sweeping over. The tears won't let up; about 70litres today. Better have good wipers, it's looking like a long weekend. And now, we have a word from our sponsors. Kleenex."

The memory surfaced the same way you found me.
Out of the blue, like an angel: of death or of life, I don't know.
Sleeping is harder than catching butterflies.
When I count the sheep, they have your face.
When I think about you, it's a circus.
It's a mixture of laughter and staring into a wall; the occasionally thrown chair at an invisible lion and the whiplash of my dreadful anger.

It doesn't make sense. I last knew you in the time it takes to grow a forest. And here I am. In a thicket of bedlam.

I used to forget that I'd forgotten you.
Now, I can't remember you're not worth the memory.

What do you hold dear?
I've seen it.
Tasted it.
Owned it.
Thrown it away.
I've loved it, hated it, ignored it.
This is what we fear:

The primitives unearthed the obsidian.
Their eyes caressed its semi-reflective luster.
Their fingers ran along the smooth confines of purpose,
or rather, surface,
it was cool to the touch
and obsidian whispered its secrets
imparting realities the primitives sought.

Tree bark was no longer an obstacle.
The flesh of beast
land, air, or sea-bound
came away like loose clothing
and the people rejoiced, teeth all the whiter.

One day, whilst digging with his prized tool,
one man found a sparkling oddity.
It puzzled him deeply.
And so,
he unearthed it
and sought to reveal its
mystery, disrobing the dirt that clung
to its crystalline body this thing, this... diamond
in the ruff was beautiful, but truly,
what worth was beauty
in light of the fill
of belly?

The man put faithful obsidian
back on the shelf
and joined his hard-working brethren at the fire.
In the night,
a stranger passed through the village.

The man sat at his fire,
chipping the stone from the crystal,
entertaining the astounded onlookers
as he perfected the gem.
The stranger looked upon the diamond
and she delighted in her providence.

She stood at the fire of the meal place
allowing its haunting glow
to cast her face in flame and shadow.
She announced,
"Look upon his treasure.
This is no mere stone!
A fist of this
diamond
can buy you king's riches
in Assur.
This man cares not for that..."
And with that, she skulked into the shadows.

Those whose hungry eyes
spoke for their hollow hearts
came forward and pleaded with the man.
If he does not care for the stone,
mustn't he choose a kin who does?

"You care not for the stone!"
the man declared,
"You care for the debauchery of the city!
I must keep this to ward you from death."

Their pleading became insistent
then ravenous,
but the man defended himself,
until one deranged man,
drunk with the fantasy of the gem,
stabbed the possessor in the back.
Thence began the war for the diamond.

Who should be the
rightful
possessor of the diamond?
Bloodshed can be no true reward.
Bodies lay strewn across the floor in warring poses
teeth gritted
eyes glaring
one ****** palm sated with the prize.

The stranger danced into the bankrupt fray
snatched the gem from the dead grip
clutching it for herself.

She smiled her yellow smile that
by her sin
could only be cleansed
by the innocence of the crystal clear gem.

She walked off triumphant.

All around, obsidian glittered in the fires
that now fought to consume the village.
The first man crawled in the dirt,
like some blood-trailing slug,
trying to escape the inferno.
Trapped, he leant against a wall
and obsidian clattered to the floor.
He picked it up,
"****** are those who delight
in fill of fantasy,
o'er fill of belly!"
There, the fire consumed him,
screams and all.

How unfortunate it is
for the meek to pay the price
for the world's greed.

The heart. The errant symbol of restless devotion.
It can be a blind lover's hope, a buoy in death's dying desperation,
Or damnation to the wise, a martyr's foolish, festering, folly.
Be sure not to forget, that the heart is sure to die.

It will be diseased, before it is deceased.
It will be broken, before it is bereft of beauty.
It will be hopeless, before it is hesitant,
And in that pause before the final blow,
It shall weep its last tear, and love no longer.

If betrayal is dealt with a kiss, then pray tell,
What is the sign, that heralds love's abandon.
Any moment, any breath saved for eternity,
Is snuffed out in the most glorious fashion.

Calm before the unapproachable sigh, and
Still no whisper of frustration from me.
I would still be strong, if I were to say,
That I am no longer passion's, patient, prisoner,
Or cupid's, aimless, trusting, intrepid, target.

He wouldst claim me heretic before heir.
Hair like the winter white, sprouts 'pon my scalp.
Signs of my bitterness waning in the wash of wine.
For we are all grapes, longing to be sublime.

Were I to count the leaves from June to June,
Where in the world, would I find love soon?
Would I learn that life on a silver platter,
Is useless, enjoyed with plastic spoons?
Surely any fork would do, unless the meal forbids it.

Foraging amidst the gardens of Eden and Amazon,
The animals wonder at my perplexity, my regret.
How could they understand, these apes and snakes.
Up in a tree, there it shone. A familiar shape, for me to long
A ripe, red, resonant fruit shaped for open hands.
The apple shook in branches, fading like.
The heart.

If you ever wonder why
poetry is flames,
you will hear my name
whispered in your room,
cocoon-cocoon-****.

I am the embers
inside the hearth of the storm,
I leave behind remembrance
to keep you safe and warm,
I live in lingual form,
cocoon-cocoon-cooon.

What stokes the flames,
when the heart is fading
when life is braiding you
into a mess
the stress
confess
sorrow is hard to impress
ravaging you, leaving you
less
yet the flames burn on
poetically strong
indomitable words
right or wrong,
they are the song
of the chirping heart
from end to start
a noble art
and my name is there
please, don't stare,
cocoon-cocoon-****.

I leap from the pages,
from the fires of the ages,
I have no name
but my poetic, rages
I leave behind my...

Cocoon-cocoon-****.

I fly away,
belatedly soon,
but I leave behind
a cocoon,
for the butterfly sheds tears
racked up over the years
rising from the waves
of paupers and slaves
for the butterfly craves
the cow.

Have you ever doubted...
Lost in a searching grasp for
lies
only to be comforted by fear:
its rigid, creviced tongue
a jagged weapon
like an obsidian relic of barbarism
scrapes my skin
scratches my earlobe
it tries to find a way into my mind.

I have forgotten the taste of truth
like a babe fed by beasts
I grew strong
or so I thought.

I tried to carve my name
into the disc of the world
"Fool"
The world isn't flat,
but I am.
I fit into the cracks you think are safe.
I slip into your secrets.
I carved lines into the world until
the impenetrable layers of rock and tree
and sky and core
were but pages,
thinly veiled memories of lives we
once cherished.

I know you've forgotten the taste
of truth
because you feel my sorrow.
It is your tale I tell
and that is why
I feel so alone.

You are impenetrable
and when I see through you,
I don't see anything at all.