the velvet warms and binds...
actually a handful of things. first a snippet that I'm still writing and then some poems.
The sky is blue. Ice blue. The air is thick and heavy. The rain falls without hesitation and I've been plunged into a frozen lake to see the dead body floating under the surface. It swims against me and its skin licks mine. Each hair on my arm stands in an effort to run away in fear. I inhale, large amounts of frigid water freezes in my lungs and the surface pushes me towards the bottom. Threatening to drown me. My nails scrape at the bottom of it, but only snowflakes and shivers peel from it. Feet and arms flail trying to find a way out. There's no air. My lungs are filled with ice cubes kissed by death. My foot hits an anchor and I stand on it and thrust up. The cadaver floating around me has the same veins as the ice after the hit. I thrust back at the same spot, no more bubbles in the water around me. The cracks widen, but don't open. Again. It shivers and shudders, something I haven't time for myself. Again and pieces fall from the surface and catching in the water, suspended and pretending it's animated. Once more. The ice collapses and falls, pushing me back down. My cadaver blue fingers grip the edge of the ice and crumbles as I try to pull myself out. Again and this time the ice holds. Out of the water I lay on the ice seizing in the rain. Her body winks at me from under the surface.
Eyes open, a halo of sweat surrounding the head and soaking through the pillow into the bed sheets. Her body contours rise and hall, a silhouette of hills against the moonlight.
She finds me out of bed and in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet with my face pressed into my hands. She knows. It's a recurring discussion between us.
forlorn in the flatlands [I need a better title for it.]
the tire tracks all over the road
no other evidence that you were here
red and white lights disappearing
on the horizon.
the shell of the vehicle upside down
a tree yards away, flinching
only proof that someone was drunk
unfortunately your car fell
into the ravine below.
love love love love love
love keeps me rooted on the hill
staring down at the nothingness
flowers planted in the ground
where the tow truck pulled you away
love love love love love
love keeps me rooted to the ground
screaming and raising my hands up
synonymous with swirling frustrations
i'm running on the dirt path
blood soaked shirt gripping my skin
panic forces a skipped heartbeat
her ring held in my hand
a tight grip puts a bullet in the skull
residue on the trigger and on the wrist
only doing as she requested
static in the air stings in the lungs
answering questions from police
pointing to photos wanting to wake up from this dream
love love love love love
love keeps me rooted in front of you
while you pull the trigger on yourself
pulling paper from my pocket
and writing your suicide note
as you dictate it to me from twenty feet far
love love love love love
love keeps me rooted outside the gates
when they read the eulogy at your wake
synonymous with regretted feelings
talking to an origami peacock
spread the wings wide and use the shoulder
to hold the burden that weighs down
who should i love, who should i trust,
when they are all taken from me
with kicks to the face, or a stale needle,
or a car severing limbs, a gunblast and I'm afraid
please, don't rustle the leaves
asking the peacock to spread her wings
love love love love love
love keeps me rooted in the memories
perpetuating a pain that i don't need
painting it on my eyes so no one asks
the answers are plain to see
love love love love love
love keeps me rooted
in the hospital and in the corner, talking alone
synonymous with reality slipping
Pollack's Car Crash.
The rubber of tires smeared on the asphalt,
chaotic with Basquiat precision,
metal clashes and melts into one mass heap.
An inspiration to those in the vehicle,
and those in their yards, watching.
A band hears the news from a dying fan,
they write a song about the butterflies
in the air at the time of the impact,
to show how no one notices the beauty
visible during tragedies. They failed
to read between the lines and see the truth;
the beauty is the lung breathing
with a piece of the window puncturing it.
The beauty is the mind making the decision
to change to savior the life spared.
The beauty is the child hanging from the door,
torso torn in two, but he has a smile on his face
from seeing a peacock spread its tail.
Celebrities in a foreign town hold champagne,
drinking to save an environmental campaign.
Forgetting about the families driving
on the very streets they use themselves.
Hear the loss, see the devestation
on the face of the hitchhiker to stumble
across the disgrace. At least he has no shame
and tucks a feather into the pocket of the child
hanging from the door. Closing eyelids
and responding to the police.
The beauty passes by like clouds.
The sky is blue. Ice blue. The air is thick and heavy. The rain falls without hesitation and I've been plunged into a frozen lake to see the dead body floating under the surface. It swims against me and its skin licks mine. Each hair on my arm stands in an effort to run away in fear. I inhale, large amounts of frigid water freezes in my lungs and the surface pushes me towards the bottom. Threatening to drown me. My nails scrape at the bottom of it, but only snowflakes and shivers peel from it. Feet and arms flail trying to find a way out. There's no air. My lungs are filled with ice cubes kissed by death. My foot hits an anchor and I stand on it and thrust up. The cadaver floating around me has the same veins as the ice after the hit. I thrust back at the same spot, no more bubbles in the water around me. The cracks widen, but don't open. Again. It shivers and shudders, something I haven't time for myself. Again and pieces fall from the surface and catching in the water, suspended and pretending it's animated. Once more. The ice collapses and falls, pushing me back down. My cadaver blue fingers grip the edge of the ice and crumbles as I try to pull myself out. Again and this time the ice holds. Out of the water I lay on the ice seizing in the rain. Her body winks at me from under the surface.
Eyes open, a halo of sweat surrounding the head and soaking through the pillow into the bed sheets. Her body contours rise and hall, a silhouette of hills against the moonlight.
She finds me out of bed and in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet with my face pressed into my hands. She knows. It's a recurring discussion between us.
forlorn in the flatlands [I need a better title for it.]
the tire tracks all over the road
no other evidence that you were here
red and white lights disappearing
on the horizon.
the shell of the vehicle upside down
a tree yards away, flinching
only proof that someone was drunk
unfortunately your car fell
into the ravine below.
love love love love love
love keeps me rooted on the hill
staring down at the nothingness
flowers planted in the ground
where the tow truck pulled you away
love love love love love
love keeps me rooted to the ground
screaming and raising my hands up
synonymous with swirling frustrations
i'm running on the dirt path
blood soaked shirt gripping my skin
panic forces a skipped heartbeat
her ring held in my hand
a tight grip puts a bullet in the skull
residue on the trigger and on the wrist
only doing as she requested
static in the air stings in the lungs
answering questions from police
pointing to photos wanting to wake up from this dream
love love love love love
love keeps me rooted in front of you
while you pull the trigger on yourself
pulling paper from my pocket
and writing your suicide note
as you dictate it to me from twenty feet far
love love love love love
love keeps me rooted outside the gates
when they read the eulogy at your wake
synonymous with regretted feelings
talking to an origami peacock
spread the wings wide and use the shoulder
to hold the burden that weighs down
who should i love, who should i trust,
when they are all taken from me
with kicks to the face, or a stale needle,
or a car severing limbs, a gunblast and I'm afraid
please, don't rustle the leaves
asking the peacock to spread her wings
love love love love love
love keeps me rooted in the memories
perpetuating a pain that i don't need
painting it on my eyes so no one asks
the answers are plain to see
love love love love love
love keeps me rooted
in the hospital and in the corner, talking alone
synonymous with reality slipping
Pollack's Car Crash.
The rubber of tires smeared on the asphalt,
chaotic with Basquiat precision,
metal clashes and melts into one mass heap.
An inspiration to those in the vehicle,
and those in their yards, watching.
A band hears the news from a dying fan,
they write a song about the butterflies
in the air at the time of the impact,
to show how no one notices the beauty
visible during tragedies. They failed
to read between the lines and see the truth;
the beauty is the lung breathing
with a piece of the window puncturing it.
The beauty is the mind making the decision
to change to savior the life spared.
The beauty is the child hanging from the door,
torso torn in two, but he has a smile on his face
from seeing a peacock spread its tail.
Celebrities in a foreign town hold champagne,
drinking to save an environmental campaign.
Forgetting about the families driving
on the very streets they use themselves.
Hear the loss, see the devestation
on the face of the hitchhiker to stumble
across the disgrace. At least he has no shame
and tucks a feather into the pocket of the child
hanging from the door. Closing eyelids
and responding to the police.
The beauty passes by like clouds.