You lack foundation.
the absence of substance allows for a hull, dark and soiled
With dripping salt,
up from which oozes the paranoia of such squalid thoughts.
Deep to the core of you,
The ancient-mortared and sickly
slick of you,
It is grey.
Uninhabited by squarely laid designs,
instead, the heaps of ladders mounted,
compromised, abandoned for any upcoming divinity.
A well so long ago forged is hard to cap.
It’s gravity a danger to any passerby only knowing
once it is far too late,
by the markings,
the crimson clawings
On your vacant walls.
The buoy of empty promise only holds air for so long
(I sink like a stone to a watery grave)
Nuclear fission of word and meaning
(My own fault, as per usual)
No accounting for the warp of water
(the nitrogen narcosis)
where everything seems to be a delight.
Choked and strangled
from the inside out
by the very element
I slithered over the desert
taking millions of years
(remember time? I didn’t think so.)
just to dive in
Crimson soaked and dripping wings of joy
I remember you. In her belly with the particles of dust.
The womb of creation where we watched time unfold.
Where we were one. An ancient race created with that lost magic. Ripped apart in such violence that the sorrow stained my soul through the millennium.
I never remembered to what I owed this affliction. A melancholy through the times of grief and joy.
When I gazed upon your smile and reached through your eyes I saw the mirror and recognized myself. My eternal partner, my other half.
I relived the torment of what happened so many eons ago. The pain would be unbearable if not for the exaltation of this reunion!
And in this moment I felt healed. As though time began again. The wrongs forged into an eternal truth. A natural force of gravity drawing upon itself.
Endless, without boundaries:
Survival is seductive.
My continued existence, nothing short of
Scars on scars. Faulty armor.
(Battle stories are so pedestrian.)
Enjoy the spoils of my war
while you champion another’s cause;
I’ve made it this far as an army of one.
cue strategic thinking).
After all, it’s simply a matter
how to win your heart
when I don’t breathe
the cosmos we’ve created
through my retinal vein
of atomic import).
with the first gasp back
in this reality’s artifice,
I’m captivated by you
and I rejoice…
(don’t say it)
there is too much
in this mirror world.
how dare you
acquit me of
in a hidden room
spawn x-ray images
actualized only to those
through invisible windows
(while torpid gravity
compels quantum states
Alexandria evaporated in flame
(Cleo’s consort turned out to be
the wrong reptile,
Embers of knowing take flight;
dancing in starlight,
bounding across desert sands,
(a final gambol through
and settling in, on the Peninsula.
They burn slowly, on the Moor.
Wisdom of every love prior lived,
is a Siren song
to the Moth;
she gasps with the blood-pulse to her wings
and curls into a smoldering embrace,
finding a Universe