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Eminence Front Mar 2016
Let me make it clear.

I am a shell of my former self.

The raindrop, unformed,
to be denied the pull of gravity.

But, if I close my eyes,
I can see divine assertions
of my former glory;
to be divulged and distributed
to everyone but myself.

Should I trust my senses
when all that's manifested
are insane twists of mind,
mazes lost in translation,
compasses circling upon themselves,
leading to unsettled destinations,
winding roads and battered shores
with waves eradicating
bits of my character?

When the floods come,
will we assign to the ark
creation
two by two?
Will we wait until the storm passes?

Behold me,
the solitary man!

Behold me,
a true island,
etched from rock
by the continous chisel
of earth's blood!

Vegetation untouched,
lacking maturity.
Earth unwalked,
lacking integrity.
Air uninspired,
lacking humanity.

But, if I close my eyes,
I can see the universe's plan
for my destiny,
placed on the shelf of life,
dusty and fossilized,
unmapped and unread.

I am not as I should be,
resisting the best within me.
Is it too late?
For me?
For me to retain my inheritance?

How will I find Polaris?
The skies remain murky
by the fog I have created.
Who will help me navigate?
Or will I continue to be the lost treasure
undiscovered?
Eminence Front Mar 2016
Her thin pale frame
her thin pale frame
like an anchor attached to my heart
her sparkling eyes
like God having a conversation with my soul
a variation of the light spectrum
her own color not meant for humanity
her face, the thought of it brings tears to my eyes
like the remnants of rain on a windowpane after a storm
from the memory of my hands upon her cheeks
from the pain of the memory of my hands upon her cheeks
her hair, though experimented with length
the smell, the texture, the touch, a welcome gift
her voice, so much life in words
like the birth of a beautiful Frankenstein's monster
letters of the alphabet bursting forth from dormancy
as though they've been given living energy from God Himself
her freckled skin, making constellations of its own
I've caressed every spot with my fingertips
making my own heavenly connections
identifying my personal Polaris
her lips, when they touched mine, electric
static, like I've both gained and lost a charge
I'm made whole with every kiss
her obsession with my body, my obsession with hers
our expression of love, its own Picasso masterpiece of physicality
as we made our own art upon canvas
our sweat mixed like watercolors
our bare skin gliding on one another
our sin was our prayer to the higher ones
we were not ashamed
her nervous energy shown in the wringing of her fingers
as though in anticipation of a phantom
ghosts that were never there
I loved that about her too
selfishly, because I wanted to be the one she needed at those times
to soothe her soul
her waist, small and natural
but with the slight shape of a snake down her back
her ailment, my ailment, we treated it together
her legs, God, I miss her legs around me
as though she never wanted me to leave her
her laugh, with reckless abandon
contagious like a plague upon the world
begging to be allowed to enter the body and infect the soul
ah...but her soul, so pure, so real, the way a woman should be
her unconditional love,  her constant encouragement
the way the world became brighter because she existed within it
the day my world became darker because she left me
all that I was, all that I am, all that I will be
impacted by one person like a large asteroid smashing into the face of the earth
leaving a massive crater instantly, but spreading throughout the world
intense radiation
I want the impact again, I want my face smashed in
I want my heart to burst with love again
but we're only entitled to one true love
and I have had mine
I will have no other.

— The End —