(no subject)
if you could, i'd like some feedback on this, because i'm thinking of using it for a competition but i'm not sure if i like it/it makes sense/it's not too melodramatic/teen angsty. thanks.
I, too, Allen, have seen the best minds of my generation destroyed
Not by your madness, your angelheaded hipsters looking for an angry fix,
but by a madness of a different sort
still starving hysterical naked,
but there are no negro streets for them to drag themselves through at dawn,
They do not get so far
they wander instead where there are no angels,
No staggering prophets, no infinite heavens of infinite stars collapsing unnoticed in the blackened recesses of our lungs,
Instead they wander the empty corridors of the heart
Where they see him
and turn the other way.
Because they have been skinned to the melody of breathing
Ringing wet warm in their ears
they let themselves be skinned alive because it sounded like gospel
skinned to the songs of salvation.
And in a dawn the color of upturned wrists,
They awaken from uneasy, guarded sleep and stumble, groping the floor to
Find enough skin to cover the aching rawness
they'll regret for the rest of their lives for allowing to be so easily coaxed from them
They'll make bloody footprints as they leave
Long before he wakes.
They are raging with a grief so seductive
They'll lower their eyelids if you look their way
And they'lll sneak white escape while you sleep naked beside them
Wanting only lucid dreams of an endless, godless blue
And they'll carve out angry red x's in the soft welcoming well between their breasts
So they don't have to say where they felt it first
And in wanting they'll wrap themselves in childhood blankets to miss meteor showers
they weren't on that roof to see
And they'll long for a less immaculate savior, long for him to bleed too
Like they long for a cock so they weren't always the one's getting fucked
They are keeping light bulbs bare
And tip-toeing the shattered mirror on the floor beside the beds
above which they hung out windows and screamed at holy visions of the back of god
until they were pulled inside, unwilling and furious, hatefully clawing at the frame
But still the mirror kept, a dangerous puzzle
shards that they let fester until they cannot be touched
never cleaned because it's too beautiful broken
And they are always
Only
This close.
But I cannot be them
No matter how I want to
Because while I know of viciousness,
of curled naked numb crying mouth-open child knees to your chest no more
I have known such tenderness.
I have known shining skin in warm dark rooms and the taste of sea-salt rising and something all sore and dumb but we do it anyway because
we found it together, this sweet fear
so softly
Like hands at the small of your back
Like rain into water
two bodies, the weight of yours on mine moving together moving as we go through this universe
ever expanding universe that someday will close in on itself,
someday we will be too small to be conceived, too small for any existence,
and there will be nothing
no saints or streetsigns or words for them, but none of this matters,
none of it matters at all
because in the end it will be worth it anyway
Because this is what I've always wanted
Always
Your touch.
And this
This alone is the only hope I have for this world.
I, too, Allen, have seen the best minds of my generation destroyed
Not by your madness, your angelheaded hipsters looking for an angry fix,
but by a madness of a different sort
still starving hysterical naked,
but there are no negro streets for them to drag themselves through at dawn,
They do not get so far
they wander instead where there are no angels,
No staggering prophets, no infinite heavens of infinite stars collapsing unnoticed in the blackened recesses of our lungs,
Instead they wander the empty corridors of the heart
Where they see him
and turn the other way.
Because they have been skinned to the melody of breathing
Ringing wet warm in their ears
they let themselves be skinned alive because it sounded like gospel
skinned to the songs of salvation.
And in a dawn the color of upturned wrists,
They awaken from uneasy, guarded sleep and stumble, groping the floor to
Find enough skin to cover the aching rawness
they'll regret for the rest of their lives for allowing to be so easily coaxed from them
They'll make bloody footprints as they leave
Long before he wakes.
They are raging with a grief so seductive
They'll lower their eyelids if you look their way
And they'lll sneak white escape while you sleep naked beside them
Wanting only lucid dreams of an endless, godless blue
And they'll carve out angry red x's in the soft welcoming well between their breasts
So they don't have to say where they felt it first
And in wanting they'll wrap themselves in childhood blankets to miss meteor showers
they weren't on that roof to see
And they'll long for a less immaculate savior, long for him to bleed too
Like they long for a cock so they weren't always the one's getting fucked
They are keeping light bulbs bare
And tip-toeing the shattered mirror on the floor beside the beds
above which they hung out windows and screamed at holy visions of the back of god
until they were pulled inside, unwilling and furious, hatefully clawing at the frame
But still the mirror kept, a dangerous puzzle
shards that they let fester until they cannot be touched
never cleaned because it's too beautiful broken
And they are always
Only
This close.
But I cannot be them
No matter how I want to
Because while I know of viciousness,
of curled naked numb crying mouth-open child knees to your chest no more
I have known such tenderness.
I have known shining skin in warm dark rooms and the taste of sea-salt rising and something all sore and dumb but we do it anyway because
we found it together, this sweet fear
so softly
Like hands at the small of your back
Like rain into water
two bodies, the weight of yours on mine moving together moving as we go through this universe
ever expanding universe that someday will close in on itself,
someday we will be too small to be conceived, too small for any existence,
and there will be nothing
no saints or streetsigns or words for them, but none of this matters,
none of it matters at all
because in the end it will be worth it anyway
Because this is what I've always wanted
Always
Your touch.
And this
This alone is the only hope I have for this world.