“Love isn’t always magic,
sometimes it’s just
melting.
Or it’s black and blue
where it hurts
the most.”

– Andrea Gibson

Love isn’t easy,
but it is familiar.
It is memory.
It is rehearsal, target practice,
skipping stones.
It is knowing you cannot hide
in anonymity when love always
reveals.

I.

You can wear no veil,
no shroud, no cloak that will
fool me.
I will know you by your gait,
by the silence of songbirds
that have come to expect your nightingale melody,
by the parting of the sea
as you rise from its depths.

II.

You cannot even hide
behind clouds.
I will know you
when lightning strikes too close
to home. I will know you
when the sun comes scorching,
leaving angry marks of Cain on my sin.
I will know you when the sun
doesn’t come at all.
There is no heavenly body that can keep you from me.

III.

You are known
to me even when I do not face you.
I will know you at the playground
when you don’t know how
to tell me you like me
without pulling on my pigtails.
I will know you on your rooftop
when our triangular wishes
are carried off by blinking airplanes.
You are known to me
even when you cannot face
the pain you’ve left me with.

IV.

I speak in your voice
before I even realize the words are yours.
Forgive me, again and again,
for singing in a language
you and I torched
after its creation.
I know you because no one else
dares speak to me in tongues.
No one else prophesies salvation
in a thousand speeches
before the tower comes crumbling down.
I will know you when you are silent.
I will know you when you are crashing thunder.
I will know you when you are civilization falling.

V.

Love isn’t easy,
no, but it is you.
Love is knowing.
It is unraveling, undoing.
Mapping out your dreams
and learning rescue remedy.
Love is you even when I least understand.
It is holding funerals for who you were,
baptisms for who you can be.
Love is ceremony.
It is breaking bread, saying grace.
“The one verse you can trust.”
Swallowing covenant.


//A.Z.//
07-17-20
2:17 AM

The temptations of heaven & hell they vex my spirit yet...

Holy salvation is an illness, born from the fear of death's inevitability.

Crave it, seek your next fix.
Fragile psyche. A rational thought away from shattering should you miss your next dosage of biblical pills.

Forgive us our doctor as we sin again. We must have our medicinal eucharist.

The doctor plans his psychological corruption meticulously. Join hands, spread the disease of fear. Become terrified sheep together. Become dependent on sanctified lies together. The mass mania contagion runs rampant.

Now the doctor begins his treatment. Gold for a weekly shot of sainted insanity. The destitute pay well, their hands tied in prayer as their pockets are plundered.

The church of St charlatans. Founded upon a rock of corruption. Preaching divine death as curable terror, blessing it with coin.

But holy salvation is the illness, and only the dead are cured.

I call it the ****** Freeway.

It seems like it's free but the exits are very hard to come by and there's always a cost for traveling it.

I give constant thanks
For the map
That set me free...

believe these words
of devotion

when you kissed me last night
I came alive

that was some amazing
mouth-to-mouth resuscitation

The deepest cut
is the first
then the one that follows
I find that I am tired
as my essence puddles out
crimson tears form in the well
and become a weeping waterfall
of wasted life and battered choices
I want to take it back---
but the redness of me,
breaks free
seeking to be exposed to the outside
and remain uncaged from weakness.

I see them flowers withering, Llorona,
The cold wind sweeps them away,
The leaves and stems are so empty, Llorona,
Come at ones to collect them, Llorona, Llorona,

There's darkness surrounds me, Llorona,
Like a burned coal mixes with the air,
It has consumed me to the core, Llorona,
You are my absolution, Llorona, Llorona,

They say I bring the calamity, Llorona,
Distructruction above all laid,
Even the full moon will hide from the sight, Llorona,
Take me to the river and show me Llorona, Llorona,

My eyes are filled with sorrow, Llorona,
No more butterflies of colors flip the wings,
A dune of a pale sand desert grows in me, Llorona,
Come with the rain and drizzle me Llorona, Llorona,

I wander in the woods and the lakes, Llorona,
Looking for a white gown of a woman weeping,
To give my will freely to your salvation, Llorona,
Hold me in your arms as I pass into thee, Llorona, Llorona,

If your wailing needs life to be taken, Llorona,
Let another child live with joy and meaning,
Take my wasted soul without falter, Llorona,
Let us go into the void of salvation, Llorona, Llorona.