He, naked by the gun
polished by antiquity.
Bronze in an age of reason,
overthrown by passion.

Live by the fruit of god, and
by god, I am risen.

Nazarene, Gabriel, Abaddon, a wing
Apollo, a foot, I float on air
and water-- watch me.

Me.  To the thyself and thou art
I, I, I, beauty--

Rosepyre absence.

frozen
I sink in air, choke on air,
bloated by the birth of drought.

This is not a lake of fire.  This is
your mother, standing
at the edge of Eden, milky thighs
tough skin and swollen.

Westward, says the philosopher,
the questioner, the one
who doubts god, but knows
he is god

And takes sanctity by the mouthful--
apples to apples, dust to bodies
Evolution without degradation, Genesis: Martyr:
drive another nail in.

Shh
Wandering tongues lynch themselves before thoughts can slip into words
pupils impregnated by motionless anticipation
and the fluttering of flies on the corpses of stomachs
don’t stutter
don’t stutter
don’t stutter
shhh
Calm
let glands spew waterfalls down brows
and browse for options yet remain still, remain silent
I was always taught to
shhhh
retreat to familiarity, fermenting in the stagnation of bedrooms
and errant thoughts, and regrets, and remembering
I don’t think this is going to work out
I dont think this relationship is healthy for us
I think we should
shhhhh
close mouths so the belt welts bruise less
You are simply fleshwounds to blues and blacks  that bubble beneath skin
eyes low, chasmic, crimson, grin and giggle
follow footsteps to paper faced ledges and the defiant plume of burning leaves
Ive grown to love
shhhhhh
Schwinns and wind, and ballooning confidence
headphones hugging haphazard hairs scent of remnant shampoo particles
and hungry breath, peppermint camouflage so lips can kiss scars
craving solid land while lost in waves of stone
distant skin and grin and eye contact
Ive grown tired of
shhhhhhh**
winding car rides, surrounded by noise
playing the quiet game

You put the life between your teeth,
the tip of your tongue brushes gently against it,
and draw a breath.
Reaching ******* and pulling it out
you look at the life,
with it's burnt edge and crumpled paper wrapping.

Watching the smoke unfurling slowly,
you contemplate leaving the life like this-
in the safety of your fingers,
away from your ever threatening mouth,
******* out all the life that is your life.

You decide against it
and slide the life back past your lips.
Breathing in, you can't help but smile,
a small,
weak,
tired smile.
You tilt your head back as life fills your lungs,
as it pumps through your veins,
diffuses into your cells.

It's smaller now, feebler.
A few ashes break away from the lit end
and glide downwards,
caught in a gust of wind.
Softly,
you press it against your lips,
dragging on your life.