do you not love me,
as the fly loves nectar dropped in a pitcher-plant,
do you not embrace me,
as the mistletoe embraces its host,
suffocating.
do you not ******* lips,
lips of sweet-tasting cyanide and intoxicating nutmeg,
as these walls separate us,
they unite us,
and the saccharine poison of your affection,
has seeped into my veins.
let me be your antidote,
your toxin,
let me be part of you,
and consume your spirit.
let me sit by you under the strychnine tree,
my head in your lap,
and drink another dose.

I
There is a certain joy,
In the reign of entropy,
Where all that was wasn't,
And all comes from nothing.

Balance is chaos' mistress,
Pleasing him with her gifts,
A Scherezade,
Knowing she could be destroyed at any moment.

Destruction and creation,
What comes out of nothingness and somethingness,
Ripples in the fabric of space and time,
Obscuring what is next to come.

There is a certain joy,
In the reign of entropy,
And man serves it,
With fear and pleasure.

II
How ironic it is,
To drown in mercury.
The god of speed slowing you down,
In a dense silvery liquid.

He takes you to Pluto's kingdom,
As you are gilded in a silvery film,
All that is left,
Is the stain of carbon.

Would that last breath,
The moment that poets and scholars speak of,
Be nothing but an oxide,
A chemical footprint?

How ironic it is,
To drown in mercury,
To be born in biology,
But your legacy chemistry.


III

He dreams of successes,
Of the bounty of the sea.
That the water be his friend,
And give its bounty to him.

When the waves crash,
And all he can see is a grey wall,
He knows,
He belongs to his aquatic lover.

Ran's net is lifted,
And all the fisherman thinks,
Is how he may return to his origin,
His birthplace of a billion years.

He dreams of successes,
Of the bounty of the sea,
But his bounty isn't his fish or scallops,
It is the cold embrace of his home.

is it not from,
dust we return?
and we were starstuff,
but now coarse grey sand.

the flower of today,
shrivels and crumbles,
into a faded mist,
of what we call yesterday.

aromatic amethyst thoughts fill my head,
as I walk through that Provence July,
feet touching the cool soil,
a warm breeze
caressing me.

slipping from my fingers,
the fickle fish time,
sand running out of the hourglass.
tell me why nothing may last,
why the leaf reaching an emerald-green apex,
decays to brown.
and why the fly agaric
has grown through your body,
jewels in your funeral shroud.
two glossy berries have fallen into your eyes,
staring at me, at the wind blowing the soil onto you.
your prized bracelets and necklaces replaced by young creepers,
white flowers filling ripening buds.
and when your elderflower bones touch the light,
two-hundred-and-six pearls released from their oyster,
as the shining leaf turns to grey.



nothing gold can stay