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Too old to go on the run
and mobility scooters aren't
that much fun,

so I walk off
briskly
before the boys in blue
decide to frisk me.
When you laugh

It is waking at night
Beneath a waterfall

Seeing clear through
The veil

To a multitude of stars
On a distant radio
Horst Wessel Lied will
Lull me to sleep
With promises
Of Apocalypse.

I'm one too many
Marching songs
Deep
In
The mire
And muck
Of half hearted
Beliefs.

As long
As it's shocking.

That's all that matters.

Considerate?

I've been kidnapped
By life,
Abducted by
Existence.

A prisoner in the
Land of languid
Happiness.

I sink.

Down here in
The doldrums.

Nothing gets better,
So I make it
Worse.

It's not
Nihilism,
It's inversion.

A contrarian
To my core.

My lukewarm crusade
Set to the cadence
Of German
Bugaboos.
Building houses of life
with white pine
and beaverboard
strife

Poured floors
of crete
and narrow doors
without glass

Varnished nobs
that soon corrode
and lose their flash

Matchbook marriage
that can't take the heat
soon burns down
in defeat

You paid your share
You collected nothing
but beaverboard
despair
Root and Horizon

[Venus]
I begin in the marrow,
a pulse beneath the skin,
the tremor of fingers
brushing dust from stone.
The earth remembers me
in the taste of iron and rain.


[Uranus]
I begin in the distance,
mapping the sky into patterns,
naming stars after forgotten kings,
threading myths across silence.
The horizon remembers me
in the way it bends toward night.


[Venus]
I speak in warmth:
breath caught on cold glass,
the ache of closeness
that refuses to vanish,
even when the window frosts over.


[Uranus]
I speak in echoes:
histories folded into stone tablets,
laws written on wind,
the scaffolding of time
carved to hold her breath in place.


[Venus]
But my body insists,
all flame and saltwater,
that love does not wait for permission.
It spills, unruly,
like rivers tearing maps apart.


[Uranus]
And I answer:
let the rivers rewrite the atlas.
Let the constellations redraw themselves
to follow the current of your pulse.
What begins in marrow
becomes the measure of worlds.


[Together]
Between root and horizon,
between breath and banner,
we are the axis:
she, the seed breaking earth;
I, the sky bending down.
In that crossing—
a whole universe opens.

.
A master of disguise,
No witness makes it out alive.
He has no face.
He comes,

And leaves no trace.

You did not bar the door.
Why would you,
In a street without crime?
But locks mean nothing to him.
They do not keep him out,

They seal him in.

You trusted alarms tuned for flame,
But let the siren built for him lay silent.
He carries no heat, no scent, no sound.

Only the hush that settles before the end.

When everyone under your roof feels ill,
Headache, dizzy, heavy with sleep,
Minds fogging, stomachs turning,

Run.

He seeps from fires smoldering, unseen.
From machines drunk on fuel.
From engines imprisoned in closed rooms.
He slips inside and steals your breath,

As he teaches your blood to love the theft.

Hesitate, and you will not wake.
He does not burn,

He consumes life.

And when his blazing ally arrives,
To destroy all your precious things,
Just know,

He is by her side.

She will distract you.
She will fool you,

Into thinking the intruder has fled.

She will lure you back inside,
To the air that betrays you.

Because they are not here for your things.

No,
They are here,

For you.


She already claimed what you loved

Now he is here

To replace

In moments

The breath you thought was yours

As you surrender to him

Too soon

The life you neglected
Change your **** batteries.
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