Old Poem
written for that night:
when our hands clenched and unclenched against each other's, palms facing, fingers entwined. We leaned against the wall; we fell onto the floor; we ran outside; we melted into the walls of the hallway, writhing and silent;
But I'm sick of these games- of being lost in mirrors,
glassy eyes. I'd rather peer through souls
without the glare of light glimmering,
reflecting your reality, and security-
lampshades over faces- nothing shielding your eyes.
Because I'm in the dark.
I've earned my way here through bizarre,
perverse travesty; traversing steadily towards the moon
I won't stop flying though the sunrise is near
and it's glory will all but shatter me.
But the dawn drifting up is worth the murky nights
in brothels, hospitals, prisons, park benches,
churches, back alleys and highways, shotgun, silence.
We've arrived, but hug me goodbye.
If the world, your world abound, is given
another chance, another day, with the dawn,
then I too am reborn, dreaming dreams before
I've learned the faces of terrors,
the guardians of fairytales. And I dream to the moon,
my wishes tossed aside to the stars,
to honor the gods long retired.
Because we are godless beings; not seeing good, bad
but in degrees of pleasure, despair
because we are gods, sin ripening along our veins
pleasure not right, not evil, simply not enough.
The world in seven days- happiness within seconds,
home is as we curl up asleep
not where we made the bed this morning.
They'll retreat to their wooden wallpaper rooms,
sleep through the sunrise, live through forever,
while I create forevers, traps set at my heels.
Forever is gripping your hands, sensuous.
my past forever and evers have all subsided
since always is nothing, when you are god.
Gods clashing, merging, fusing; momentum stirring-
when? then can I rip myself free again?
Your hands are etched from marble and time
will wear them away, but don't forsake me
though I've escaped before. I'm trapped underneath
for a reason, pinned underneath; keep me-
don't forgive me- I don't have anything to repent.
Play the only rule we follow, hunter and prey,
gods to dogs, freedom in the tumbling fall.
Others use up all their time crying wolf,
but we are the wolves prowling the wild,
too hungry, too cold, to hear the distant howls
of little boys- growing up.
They pine, they whine, their ravishing desire
unsatisfied. You ravaged me; us, together.
Bring your heart closer. I never love you,
since you will never love me. And love has,
with its ruins, given us the pyre to ignite,
gasoline and heat, panting pressure- our nights
of commitments dishonored, opportunities
ignored, of hearts repeatedly torn.
Clasp your bloody hands to mine.
We have blood staining our hands.
We wipe them off on each others' bodies.
We lick our wounded lips with acrid tongues,
as we confide our struggles with our hearts
to the currently heartless.
We were heartless, but we loved it.
Love cannot ever be a perfect relationship-
it's the pain of essence missing,
longing, denying you any sort of consciousness beyond
you, reaching for me, my lips joining yours, tasting drops of
your soul, lingering on the horizon, my mouth desiring
a kiss, so forlornly that your mouth is cast,
imprinted in the desert dunes
parting for you.
when our hands clenched and unclenched against each other's, palms facing, fingers entwined. We leaned against the wall; we fell onto the floor; we ran outside; we melted into the walls of the hallway, writhing and silent;
But I'm sick of these games- of being lost in mirrors,
glassy eyes. I'd rather peer through souls
without the glare of light glimmering,
reflecting your reality, and security-
lampshades over faces- nothing shielding your eyes.
Because I'm in the dark.
I've earned my way here through bizarre,
perverse travesty; traversing steadily towards the moon
I won't stop flying though the sunrise is near
and it's glory will all but shatter me.
But the dawn drifting up is worth the murky nights
in brothels, hospitals, prisons, park benches,
churches, back alleys and highways, shotgun, silence.
We've arrived, but hug me goodbye.
If the world, your world abound, is given
another chance, another day, with the dawn,
then I too am reborn, dreaming dreams before
I've learned the faces of terrors,
the guardians of fairytales. And I dream to the moon,
my wishes tossed aside to the stars,
to honor the gods long retired.
Because we are godless beings; not seeing good, bad
but in degrees of pleasure, despair
because we are gods, sin ripening along our veins
pleasure not right, not evil, simply not enough.
The world in seven days- happiness within seconds,
home is as we curl up asleep
not where we made the bed this morning.
They'll retreat to their wooden wallpaper rooms,
sleep through the sunrise, live through forever,
while I create forevers, traps set at my heels.
Forever is gripping your hands, sensuous.
my past forever and evers have all subsided
since always is nothing, when you are god.
Gods clashing, merging, fusing; momentum stirring-
when? then can I rip myself free again?
Your hands are etched from marble and time
will wear them away, but don't forsake me
though I've escaped before. I'm trapped underneath
for a reason, pinned underneath; keep me-
don't forgive me- I don't have anything to repent.
Play the only rule we follow, hunter and prey,
gods to dogs, freedom in the tumbling fall.
Others use up all their time crying wolf,
but we are the wolves prowling the wild,
too hungry, too cold, to hear the distant howls
of little boys- growing up.
They pine, they whine, their ravishing desire
unsatisfied. You ravaged me; us, together.
Bring your heart closer. I never love you,
since you will never love me. And love has,
with its ruins, given us the pyre to ignite,
gasoline and heat, panting pressure- our nights
of commitments dishonored, opportunities
ignored, of hearts repeatedly torn.
Clasp your bloody hands to mine.
We have blood staining our hands.
We wipe them off on each others' bodies.
We lick our wounded lips with acrid tongues,
as we confide our struggles with our hearts
to the currently heartless.
We were heartless, but we loved it.
Love cannot ever be a perfect relationship-
it's the pain of essence missing,
longing, denying you any sort of consciousness beyond
you, reaching for me, my lips joining yours, tasting drops of
your soul, lingering on the horizon, my mouth desiring
a kiss, so forlornly that your mouth is cast,
imprinted in the desert dunes
parting for you.