On the eve of his birth, I came to caress
The mark on his chest, a somber lament
Shapeless and void of blood but etched on flesh.
Blacking by the day since the lash begun appearing
Cells too sad for procreating
To this day the charm still holds, still folds
unintentionally to his cheek to his tongue
Pulled back by the hairs he outgrew from the sun.
And the billions of stars he stole to this day
Swallowed his face with an irreparable grace
Leaving the banquet to empty suitors
With blind and unyielding tumors.
We’re farther away than we thought
Nearer than we expected
Neither of us complain
We’re better misplaced but found
Streamlines cover the molds
And the fumes no longer loosen
Watered here we grow
We’re better kept and summed
With all our parts we cherish
The silent taste of doubt
We’re tending to our garden
We’re better touched and found
There’s a savior in the sky
But with the devil in their eyes
Saving lives that move to close
By the brink of death
It’s nothing more than an empty road
It carries on without a lesson
They cannot see what I do
They cannot feel what I feel
The spectrum of the world keeps spinning
Tumbling, turning, it goes on
No point in stopping what has already begun
There’s nothing to do
But sit and wait
For the doom that will befall
So let the spirits loose
when I say no more
As a matter of opinion,
I am my heart.
The veins spread themselves too thin.
Too lonesome to make two.
I am singular.
Life is a length of limb.
It strengthens when you run.
It grows tired and shakes numbly.
I am rising.
From below the belt.
Beneath a scratched surface.
Nothing anymore beguiles me.
I am my faults.
They’re perfect for games.
As my heart, I am traded
For kisses and caresses
Locking lips with manifestations.
I am always true.
My hostility stems from my poverty.
Your shallow soul is not my body.
No exhortations can create any desire
That I have not yet endured.
Because I am broken but I am real.
And I too lust for revelations,
Without hiding behind a machination.
I am unbound.
You’ll try to catch me.
By then I’ve flown.
I am free.
Filibuster the old man down
His fickle heart close to shattering
Vibrations astound his breath
While he wakes by the morning moon
He closed his fists and drank his pills
He sunk his teeth beneath his tongue
Veined and vengeful the dirt of his loot
Closeted in his arms he never washed
Polymer threads dangling near his mouth,
He’d been eating the cloth of his sheets
Alone he wears out his mobile feet
They no longer feel the earth but the translucency of his skin
Like the rubber of excess glue
Withering in his painful sleep
A familiar nostalgia drones his pupils
It drenches his reveries, hope turns to a frown
He lived too long