The moon illumined
the night,
perfect scenery
for two hearts
succumbed
to fiery emotions,
burning blood
all over our bodies,
our knees trembled.
The silhoutted stairs
are so quite,
I could hear your
whisper of longing,
I grabbed your hands,
and pressed my lips
against yours.
You devoured it.
My lips are yours.
I am yours.

when you lead with your left
all you have left, is the right thing to do.
and even that can be arbitrary.

you may approach the bench
but the bench will press you -
against any falsehood

where the ornament is a winged siren
above the headlights.

you might get comfortable
boxing crows in a corn field, after dark -
but then, you could be an alabaster pearl
in the raven's tear. or some-such goblin
that feeds on sustained grief
and bought that house on the corner
of your mind's eye.

you might swear to eat the pentagram.
but can't even taste a straight line.
it boggles the googly calamity
in progress.

and i can still taste your open mind from here.

the days of the merry tale have retired, spellbound -
by the mediocrity of our tedious dreams.
we are now engorged with the truth.
and oblivious. we astound the yawning void
with our audacity to refrain
from giving a ****.

but the Mondays have rain so soft
it could melt an atom.

and those are the days we turn into Us.
and i forget what's wrong.

in the barn, where the wicker baskets gag on dust askew -
shimmering in disarray as the slanted rays of the sun
slip through the fissures of our ancient frame...
there are new gods now. and they caper through the wires
of our every day... we are consumed by consumption
and have no weariness to stay the rapids of our Idiocy.
we brook no fumes. but bind to the arrhythmia
of our plastic satori.
we conjure no love that is not dead to the world.
it's just dead to the world.

with a barn.

whereupon i found myself walking; i cannot say.
but a brave lad was i... with all the stubborn yolk
of a cauldron sunset... burnt into the world
branding the blackening blue with a last rage
against the dead stars.
i found my cigarettes were now chandeliers !
and most of my ghosts were departed.
up the unnatural spire...

my gaze fell upon
an ascending
why?

and never came down.

the trouble i'm in
is no worse than
the worst thing.
but it hurts like
it ain't lettin' up
in your lifetime.
you sink to the bottom
just to breathe.
claw your way to the edge
of black steam.

you forget where you put the thing
you lost on purpose
and you can't recall remembering
everything about it.

in the air where the thimbles between us
hold a spoonful of spite... and the light has the skin
of a snake, like a very lonely drum.
it's polite to say thanks to the devil that you know
but you can't sleep with your eyes closed
in an open question....

so the automatic pain that eats your heart right out
just might be the bruise you were looking for
and the dimples in the sun, have all the darkness
of a missing kiss
and this has never been a life
without a love
killing it.

It's because you don't love me
That i get the chills.

You're one of those girls
That a woman
would ****.

But not like Time.
That's another thing -
Still.

And you've got my name.
While I got you
nothing.

II

And Nothing means more
Than a love that meant
Nothing.

And Nothing at all
Is why not ?

Or Something.

This kind of dead, lives.
It lives with the humiliation
you insist upon.
But now, you have to deal with me.
You have to acknowledge
that I Loved You.
And this will not be easy.
For you fantasized that I
Had been utterly defeated -
Or was low born as other men,
Too caught up in my groin, perhaps...
But weak, nevertheless.
Or that my shallows had no depth.
You were convinced -
That servitude was a symptom
Of my puppet disease.
But now...
I leave you at the mark upon my Soul.
The very envy of Cain.
Because I can die for something.
But yet remain.

You can only **** me once.

But I can leave you
deeper..,

I take it with a grain of salt
Our Heaven is exhausted.
And we oughta' be more careful
with our carelessness more often.
don't read me like a book
and I won't shelve my deeper feelings
And I'll promise you
No Promises
Love has no way of keeping.
We could be reasonable
or risible....
Both silent and indivisible.
But I can almost taste it
as we waste it.
Now Life's become
unlivable.

Our Heaven is exhausted...
and maybe... maybe...
Hell is too.

it's not like i ain't
been South
before.
more like i can't see
the stars
anymore.
More like a thing
i used to love
has locked
the One
door.
and left me
Out -
with all my
heart
pounding
amore.

or less
.
adrift on a sea of foam
near the rocks, flecked with bones
and private diaries...
with tiny keys
to huge locks
and the wreckage
of wayward souls
dashed against the lichen
and the lint from black fleece...
bobbing in the riptide
of a sand dune.

swallowed whole by the question
at the heart of my demise
and the sorrow
in a sunbeam
when it looks me
in the eye.

and weeps.