Love was not a house we built.
It was an abandoned fortress we stumbled upon.
By chance.
Most unprepared.
Ransacked by so many bandits before us,
used by some stranger for some purpose for some time,
then abandoned.

But we, being the masochists we are,
chose to stay inside
and pretend
we were safe
from the cold.

On an angry sea
with sails getting more
USELESS!
TORN!
by the second, it seems!

Your image a mermaid
God bless the shore
and the scenes that live on
in the depths of our dreams.

DOWN WITH THE SHIP!
said the Captain, at once.
DOWN WITH THIS VESSEL TO THE BOTTOM, I'LL GO.
but he was the sea, the storm, the ship.
he was everything and nothing, he just didn't know.

I used to seek in daylight, in the obvious, the clear.
As if lifetimes were re-written in my twenty-something years.
Knowing well what's worth finding must be hidden, must be kept
in shadows - or illusions - or dark devices of our debt.
One life altered by a thousand half-deaths:
mere moments of enlightenment that fuel the self-impressed.
Only fools could stay with certainty but not help clean up the mess.
That's why I wrestle with my restlessness and blessings that manifest.

A sour grape makes for a wine still lacking.
Because an imperfect body bruises a soul without remorse.
In your skin like a child under his blanket in fear of a house cracking.
When it falls apart you'll realize, it was never really yours.

The stars show favor but the fever withstands.
I laugh at who I was, so in need of proof.
Taking swings at the past with invisible hands.
The mouth of your glass holding circular truth.
What can be said for our best-laid plans?
We were widowed by the paradigm of intimacy, too.
Outside of your window chuckin' rocks like David
(only, the Philistine was love and the weapon was you).

The first two bricks that made this building
appeared strong at first but collapsed when a rogue wind blew;
became the same two cents that were tossed by children
into a fountain then forgotten - oh, the recklessness of youth!

And like a turtle on its back.
Or a dog trapped in a burning skyscraper.
Or a crab caught in a fisherman's net.
This body is a shell for a thing I've not yet met.

The Sun became a quill in a sky blue scroll.
One foot in the tangible as worlds unfold.
Birds and insects take flight to declare
there is purpose in the solitude that heralds our despair.

As a shipwrecked sparrow hollers from a tree -
"I am only just a body! What could be inside of me?!"

But then his unseen counselor that has a thousand voices reveals itself as a shelter in the storms of past choices.

The timeless wearing the fleshy mask of the timebound.
A gargoyle delighted in the facade.

No one thinks enough of fantasy to see the clues so well-placed.
--
And where we used to soar with purpose,
now we simply stand in place.
--
Demonstrating mortality, see it written on the face
of collective consciousness; is it stubborn to embrace?

Presently I'm chasing presence.
With both legs tied with guilty ropes.
Through the suffering, the shadow of our true selves revolts.

I am not I.
Or at least not as I.
Would think it.

I saw a garden get planted, wither, and flourish again.
The frosty chains of Winter's exhale, broken.
While each word spoken served bi-polar purposes.
As purple curtains were slowly eaten by moths in the way erosion forms canyons over millions of years.
Oblivious to our trap like ants in an ant farm
and just as much a spectacle for voyeurs.
Like a child trying his best to tell a lie,
adults have lied enough and been lied to enough to recognize:
it was see-through the whole time.

What's it like to love someone you can't have?
Well, it's like gasping for breath in a vacuum
-- the intention is fierce but the beast won't comply --

I watched a gnat drown in a glass of abandoned bourbon
wondering if the whiskey burned it alive as it sank, screaming to its gods
or if it simply drowned - too drunk to realize it was searing and singing
like a satellite wandering too close to the sun.
Immolation I would imitate a thousand and one times
in a perverted display, selling humility.

Service and self-righteousness may be indistinguishable to some
but those who see...SEE...
...and a lie dissolves like a slug in a salt pile.
Blaming everyone but ourselves as our hearts turn to dust.
The disintegration of genuine trust.
An exit plan when perfect circles corrupt.
And collapse.
Into lines.
We've all heard.

Welcome to the World.
You will be submerged in a substance you do not understand.
We will observe you as you attempt to rationalize, explain, and [potentially] recreate it.
You will "experience" pre-constructed formulas of code which we have decided to call "emotions."
You may even encounter the unrestrained piece of sequence your peers have taken to calling "love."
In fact, it is quite possible that you will.
We created each of you to behave as if you are the only living person of importance.