(I cannot determine who is the coil)
Heavy ropes wrapped around me
So tightly wound up I can feel
My chest cracking, brittle bones
Breaking in unison.

The sound echoes throughout my skull
My temples pounding
Burning up in flames
Desperate to be extinguished
Praying for the fire to move downwards
To ignite the rope, for the conflagration
To run dangerously out of control
My body a raging inferno of war.

My voice choked
There’s not enough oxygen
I’m being suffocated
And only smoke signals
Are emitted from me.

I’m trying to reach, someone
Or something, in the distance
No one can come too close
And anything is always too far
It’s the unfathomable truth
Of my existence.

(I cannot determine who is the coil)
I cannot be understood
Because every look from another
Disintegrates me
And I become nothing more than
A sheet of searing flames.

But every time I’m left alone
I’m always screaming within
My body eating itself from
The inside out
Penetrating pain never laying
Dormant, my skin
its vivacious host.

Heavy ropes wrapped around me
Forging incessant loops
Smothering me to the point
Of death.
(I cannot determine who is the coil)

© Sia Jane

Introduction
There they stood; keeping silent company.
Yet of His face, wept searing electricity.

To the lovers of life*
Here they stand, keeping silent company.
No utterance dealt; yet clear in both their minds
A single, brilliant truth:

He longs for her with a savage delight.
And it cries from every fibre, exalting!
It is in the bearing of his eye;
Rifling through her tender flesh
In search of what he knows, from voices ages old, is there:
That her heart will beat for no other as it beats for him right now;
That in this moment, their Souls are bared
To each other’s glares- naked, and blemished, and cowering-
Yet his eyes remain fixed and sure:

And for this, she loves him.

For they have seen each other for the First of Times,
Truly! And as with many the Ancient Laws unfurled,
They stand aware, in lack of ever being taught,
Aware with every atom, every straining tendon tight
That their time's so very short.

And so they drink… wordless
To each other, to their youth, and to their bodies
Shining like never before in the noonday air
Garbed in cloth that snaps and furls around their waists.

They imbibe with electric eyes,
Eyes that are new born to this world of light
And come out screaming, living, and sensitive
For lack of ever being touched.
They revel in their new-found joy;
Pouring from Her figure,
Of Her sleek, supple waist and the arch of her back,
Bristling with delight,
Of His strong hands and easy smile,
That spoke of laughter scattered
Across countless campfires of summers past.

Their light does burn intense as any fire,
And when their brimming anticipation
Overspills its crimson chalice
The silence shall SHATTER.
To find peace again in each other's arms.
Fumbling in sweet darkness-

Of heavy lids, of earthy flesh,
With lips embraced...

In ravenous finality.

The only thing separating a profound thought from a ridiculous one is the audience.

The truly courageous are those that tell the same truth no matter who is listening.

My mother looked for God at the bottom of a wine glass as empty as her heart,
she shrunk herself down to curl up in the bottom of it
and I haven’t heard her pray since.

My father looked for God at a grave marked for a man that introduced them.
But saw only grass growing over dirt,
saw only unanswered pleas
and he has been six feet further away from being saved since.

My brother looked for God in the highest place he could reach.
He was met with only a long way to fall,
the ground beneath him wasn’t as soft as it had been when he was a child,
and he hasn’t looked up since.

I looked for God in unheard answers and nights of loneliness.
All that I got back were prayers soiled with tears.
I caved in on myself.
And i have learned something since.

The dark cavern between my ribs holds promises
The possibilities of a glass that is empty
is as much as an empty heart has;
to be filled.
The certainty that six feet under isn't where our loved ones lie
The blanket of a God that loves us enough to let us hate Him
The highest place we can reach on earth,
is kneeling before a God that is not hard to find, but is hard to see.
All I had to do, was look inside of myself.

Because she could not see—
Song in flower, light in lovers abed,
Dream unfolding as we touched,
Because her great beauty was gifted
It was unfelt, undeserved, shunned,
Making her even more irresistible.

Because I could not hold on to self,
Beside such dream, lost to my hands
As prints clutched into the ruin dark
Of her indifference, I made peace
With subjugation and humilities riven
Out of soul and flesh and hollow being.

Because we were unknowing, each
A foil unto ourselves as we cried—
This then was daymare riding in sun,
Twin delusions in oft reign of blood,
O what stories we both shall die to tell,
How the itch of desire scratches bare
Whole psyche as it writhes in a shell.