The pores on your face
are enflamed, like a valuable red ruby:
I realize for the first time that I could shatter you
put my sadness in your heart
stuffed up like fortune cookies, misfortune.

When you cry,
I realize for the second time that love is not just
a chemical like dopamine, serotonin.

I do not love you just so I can fall asleep
at night but I only play with
puzzles when I realize you are missing from me:
that is the difference
between science and feeling, your beauty.

I taste the placebo affect
when you smile like quartz in the rough,
I realize for the first time that I want you to hang
from my neck on a diamond cut chain
and discover, and know that I can be happy.

A unique glint compels the eye
Towards desolation
Pluck a stone from the desert floor
For examination

Would faceting reveal a prize?
Do its flaws void its worth?
Could it ever shine so brightly
It seems not of this earth?

Yet inclusions of baser stuffs
Are threaded through its veins
Harsh mineral imperfections
Which this beauty contains

They cannot be excised, you see
It would transform the stone
Into a hollow, pitted thing
So best leave it alone

Just drop it back into the sand
With spots you so abhor
Another hand will pick it up
One who can love it more

i am a lie
when i am with you

a faceting deceit

i fidget to achieve vital moments apart from you
when i perform bursts ;

acts of
what it could be to be me

like
little dishonesties

flourishes of free time

i’d indulge in fierce meals out
drinks
loud music with offensive lyrics

and then
back in time to greet you

remeet your arguments
and self central needless deeds
and the viperous structural shakedowns
of your violent
flailing personality

will either of us
stalk free of this numb feast of ugly energy ?

when i go to bed at night
i take to the edge
furthest from you
and kip like a dud

my creative force is in holding

i suffer a duration
whilst we struggle
to maintain
the whole world
according to the way you persist

according to your law

it gleams
it glows
and refracts light
into rainbows
on the shadowed walls
flickering with the last fire
of this winter

this faceted crystal
lives in the amber lights
speaking of it's years underground
of the smell of peat and other organic matter
it talks of presing and pressure,
of waiting, of dormancy
of silence and solitude
of tetonic shifts, and little landslips

of the sound of pick and axe
and the rumble of machinery
the gabble of voices, the greed of man

it talks of admiration followed by
cleaving and faceting and grinding
it speaks of currencies

it speaks of love, of exicitement
and trepidation, of yearning
and of acceptance and joy

it tells of years of happiness
of washing up and of being held
in quiet embrace, it tells of nights
just like this,  sitting in front of the fire
basking in it's glow, making rainbows
on shadowed walls

It's more like the anger,
The sun holds towards the oceans,
******* them dry,
Then slowly giving in.

Flickers of faceting fire,
Burning black the winter snow,
A crimson smelling attire,
Turning blemishes to bluish holes.
Just as the bullet replaced,
The thing beating in the cage,
Just as the blood replaced,
The thing breathing in the dust of age.

It's more like the greed,
A painting holds towards the notes,
What will it not give,
To be heard and written.

Bubbles of darkness at dawn,
Hunting gnats from freezing pyre,
An arrow head in the swarm,
A hum released to inquire,
Then the wind went by,
Snatching courage of bent knees away,
Then the wind went by,
Bursting dawn, dusking the song of prey.

It's more like the sleep
Seconds of seasons grew out of,
Under a canopy of camouflage,
Until it rained for a million years.