When it arrived
No man can say.
It may have been here
Since the beginning,
Waiting to be discovered.

Now it sits, studied,
Watched by the world.
Black and reflective,
With the occasional ripple
Running across the surface.

It's purpose is unclear.
For all it does,
All it has ever done,
Is float there.
Slowly spinning on its axis.

Smooth to the touch,
Not warm, not cold.
Its atomic and chemical
Structures are unidentified.
The cube is a mystery.

Sirens wail,
Klaxons flash in warning.
We watch with bated breath.
What does it mean?
A fragment lies on the floor.

A man comes out of the shadows,
as so it goes.

Held his fist to the doe,
Her money, you know.

“I’ve only but a rose,
one of friendship despite my woes.”

And with that rose she choked.
Like Porphyria’s lover,
coaxed.

Soft mane of death,
like a thorn to the chest.
Only the rose of amity saw the rest.

The narcissistic urge flips eggs now.
Our ex-veteran father-figure gets a hamster, calls it Snuffles.
The thing you don’t know until the end of the script of the Tarantino-twist is that our protagonist sits
rocking back and forth in
a barren room inside a strait-jacket.

Meanwhile, our enemy shouts
something along the lines of:
"grab a spoon
I hope they don’t wash their hands"
The stones fallen off their strings,
gunshots hotwire themselves away from
a dubstep kind of drilling, the pipe dream
of an intimate email relationship.
Shout again,
"I hope you never feel those clammy hands.
Blaarghh"
Your diner eggs stink
I chucked up
In the kitchen bin.

It's so cold
Here
In this dank wet prison
Where the Blue-Haired Monster
That fiend
That monger
Loves me with grave danger
Trapped in an unstable manger
My own maelstrom brought me down
He killed me
And He revived me
Then He'll **** me again
He doesn't talk
He speaks in giggles
Cold
Wet
Giggles
... no
With cold
wet
spindly fingers
no
and a tongue
of vile
vanity
No
The vanity drips
All over my face
Such a horrid taste
NO
NO!
DO YOU HEAR ME?
I
SAID
NO!

boom

NO!

boom

NO!

SET!
ME!
FREE!

clap

Thund­er and lightning
My Angel of Blue sings
A song that parts the sea
The rain of my pain
Works for my gain
A hurricane
The Blue Man can't see
My Angel of Blue wasn't dead
She was waiting for me instead
Through the waters
I rise
My salt water cries
Bring me to distant shores
His maelstrom traps me no more

We are all statistics for someone's narrative
But statistics are only numbers
Until you know their story.
Because then, those stats have a name
a face. a meaning. a purpose.

When you look at people,
don't count numbers,
because you can't see numbers
without being numb...

I have crossed Death’s courtyard more than once,
In hopes that she will keep my heart for all the months,
For Death does love me so recklessly,
In her hesitance to claim me, accidental immortality,

What she considers reward,
Has become my double edged sword,
Every time I've tried to die we've danced through her orphic kingdom,
Before I utter once, her amaranthine lips again return me to life.

I’ve returned to the horrid living land,
Wandering lost I find myself a bench for I can barely stand,
This insufferable quandary has finally consumed my soul,
Doubled over now crying into my own hands,

Why can’t I die, why can't I say,
That I would stand beside her every day,
How troublesome it is my hollow solitude,
Of heartbroken eternity,

For I so loved Death that I found no luster in life,
What will it take to finally end my repeated strife,
How is she so blind to how I feel for her as I've gone to her near ninety times,
My condemnation has reached its tantamount,

As if in answer to my tribulation, a stranger has come with murderous designs,
Against the waning moonlight his knife shines,
To commit the most apprehensive of crimes,
Thanks to this miscreant a barbarous scheme I have devised

If you should take my life, I have but one request,
Take your knife and carve a message upon my chest,
Do this deed for me I plead,
I shall give you all that I’ve accrued and sign the rights over to you.

With minor coercion, he set about his ****** work,
In finding my intricate solution, I died with a pained but knowing smirk,
Closing my eyes, I hoped for the final time,
In so few hours, I again returned to her.

In shock she saw me so freshly arrived,
My clothes matted with my blood for what I’d contrived,
Worried she rushed to alleviate my pains,
With my finger I halted her resurrecting kiss.

In her confusion, I removed my shirt so covered in gore,
That she might witness the scarlet cut message I bore,
As her gaze did alight upon my sigil,
Her lips began to quiver, and her courtly visage did fracture

Collapsing to her knees, she began to cry with such labored breath,
For unbeknownst to my most beautiful lady Death,
That I in turn did yearn for her,
And she grieved for all the decades we had lost,

I took her hand into my own and pulled her back upon her feet,
And held her close to know that we were finally complete,
I held her in a rigorous caress,
She unperturbed as my garnet ichor stained her from crown to corset,

Now she knows it's her and only her that I admire,
For all my wanting she is all that desire,
For if I could not be with her,
Than life itself I did loathe,

Even as I bled on her, she grinned thrillingly up at me,
With my blood upon her face I wiped her red stained tears of glee,
And standing up on to her toes, with her amaranthine kiss she cured me,
Of my mortal wound and mortal heart,

This time though she kissed me with such fevered passion,
As was never before her fashion,
That I might know her answer to my question,
She pulled away and joyfully outcried Yes!,

Now our lonely eras ended, we rejoice in our finding,
That this redamancy was eternally binding,
All it took were these three words carved into flesh,
Let me stay.

I looked at myself through an oracle’s mirror;
At the person I was, have become and one day could be…

I saw a little seraph girl with a crooked halo
Resting on her devil horns.
Her tired heart and brave mind
Were curious yet guarded.

That day I saw myself  
With every scar
Every fallen tear
Every smile
And every milestone.
I peaked through my wings
And saw the devil They never wanted
But the angel for whom I still fought for
On the darkest nights
And loved on the brightest mornings.

I have become a paragon of imperfections and flaws.
Transformed into a tesselation
Of loosely sutured calamity weaving
Through the complexities of my benevolence.

And yet…

Beyond myself,
I saw the world in its blackened beauty
Reflected so wondrously
In shades of good and evil
And wrong and right
And wrapped ever so tightly in adventure.

My golden apple waiting just outside of Eden’s gates.

Shall I take it?
And be locked out of my garden forever?

The cherubs will be forlorn,
And the demons may even shed a tear,
And the hell whose flames I’ve kept so tamed
May reach out and dance across the garth.