This is not what I need . . . ****-ysis, paralysis, as though I were a seed to be planted, supported with a stick and some string until I emerge. Your words are not water. I need something more nourishing, like cherishing, something essential, like love so that when I climb out of the lime and the mulch. When I shove myself up from the muck . . . we can ****.
Originally published by Unlikely Stories. Keywords/Tags: analysis, paralysis, psychoanalysis, words, nourishing, cherishing, essential, love, muck, ****, ***
Slowly creeping along, Layers of discarded detritus, It's reality the muck before it, The muck its haven, No concern for human qualms, Unless the curious child, Comes forth to crush the snail between their fingers, Proving that, even the mud, Holds no refuge for the creature, Trying to retreat from the surface.
THE EARTH WAS STILL AS IT SWIRLED AROUND ME A HAZE OF ASH AND DREAMS A BURN VICTIM OF AN UNREALIZED FANTASY SCREAMING IN TWISTED EXCSTASY AS MY FACES MELTED AND PETRIFIED FROZEN FOR A LIFE ALIEN RECTIFIED WITH A SHARP OBSIDIAN ***** TO DELIVER ME REMADE
HE SCRAWLED AND CLAWED HIS WAY TO ME HIS WORLD ENTIRE, AS THOUGH I COULD SEE MY LOVER ONCE DELAYED BY GRIEF AND ASHES, A MISTAKEN AIDE OF THE LOST GODSPOKE MEN
HE TOLD THEM TO LEAVE HIM DIRE THAT HIS PASSION WOULD CARRY HIM THROUGH MUCK AND MIRE FIERY INTO THE REALM ABANDONED CRIES WRAPPED IN THE DUSTY ORGANZA LIES HE SEEMED LIKE AN EYELESS CREATURE BLUNDERING HIS WAY, A BLIND BEESHECHER SEARCHING FOR LOVE WHERE THERE WAS ONLY A MAELSTROM OF LONGING
REBORN IN HIS GRAVE OF PROPHETS AND GRIEF A SOLDIER SENT ONCE TO TEACH THE FIRE SCORCHING AND TWISTING MY SHROUD AS HIS WORLD WENT TUMBLING, BROKEN AND PROUD
TORN IN HIS WAKE OF GRACE AND WHEN MY BODY HE FOUND ENCASED IN GLASS, AS THOUGH A TRUE LOVE AWAITS BUT WHAT HE COULD NOT ENKINDLE IN HIS HEART WAS WHAT WOULD RIP THE GLASS APART LOST IN OBSIDIAN IN ASH AND GLASS A SHALLOW PRISON OF LOSING AND LOVE AND THE SPACE BETWEEN US
this was a poem I wrote, inspired by the book the road by Cormac McCarthy