Through your blue eyes I see it all.*

I.

Wasted romantic fantasies.
My heart upon a dish, a knife driven through it.
I met someone with oceans for eyes once before,
But her fair, golden hair turned to vipers, venom dripping from sharpened fangs.
I watched those snakes devour my soul.
While they digested that little broken piece of my existence,
I could feel the blood flowing out of every orifice of my body.
I grew cold.
But that Gorgon only giggled cruelly.
The vipers hissed in time with her poisonous laughter.
Already, my veins were turning black.
I watched her glide away with heart in claw,
As I fell to the cold, hard, unforgiving floor.
To me, the floor whispered,
“There’s no one to catch your fall this time.”

II.

I am a clock without a craftsman.
Hands forever immobile.
Forced to feel time but never realize it flowing by.
Too late.
Always have been, always will be.
I am the Could-Have-Been King.
Being with you, Athena, is almost as bad as being without you.
With you, I see the kingdom I could have had.
I see the godhood I could have attained;
All it would take is one kiss from your divine lips.
Yet I know they do not belong to me.
And so my hands are idle,
As is the rest of my body. My heart. My soul.
You claim that my hands are made of gold,
That I leave gilded fingerprints.
If only you knew how bloodstained they are,
Soiled by a thousand envious dreams.
You would not want these hands upon your face.
They sear my own eye-*****.

III.

All the Meanwhiles, the Never-Weres, the Only-Ifs,
Have taken up residence in my dreams.
They labor to build a perfect city,
Where you and I reign supreme.
Let us sojourn to our ephemeral city, on the moon,
Where we can watch the Earth spin, grow old, and change,
All through the tubes on our television sets.
We shall name the terrestrial river outside our palatial boundaries;
It shall be called Time.
It will be harsh year round on the moon.
The water may never reach our lips,
But at least we would satisfy each other’s thirst.

IV.

Athena, send your owl unto me.
Make me wise.
Make me worthy.
Bid me come, and I shall never falter.
Never again.
Throw that Medusa’s head into the flame of our passion,
And watch with sinister glee as the snakes writhe in agony.
Raise the blessed chalice to my lips,
Let me drink of your glory.
Only send me word,
And you would have me forever.