see a beginning

travel to end

i have been

some where else

the journey is over

my steps were fallow

Look at us
Blurring the days
In these picture frames
Going our own
Separate ways
Onto sicker brains
Leaves me
Internally
Wretching
To contemplate
Predicated
On the seedbed of doubt
That what happens between us
Would wither without

daughter of Icarus
searching for a distant light
or maybe you've heard
the distant voice
of Harry Crosby

his Black Sun
calling you
into the Minotaur's labyrinth
on a long
lonely
night

waxen heart
wings on fire
meet your man
at Chik- fel- A

cross that line
past the edge
how high can you fly
and never reach the sky?

maybe i am meant to be loved only
in violent screams or cruel whispers
in molten magma or rigid frost
in blinding light or void darkness

maybe i am not meant to be
loved gently

maybe it will always be
all or nothing

17.11.23

keep turning me red
begging me
to make the blood beautiful

Slap my face cruel wind
press hard upon my cheek
with fingers red and rough as any farmers hand
you bend the struggling trees
and whip the waves to beat the land
is it any wonder
that I fail to understand
how one so gentle in repose
could be so angry when he blows