Felt warmth at my back, and fell asleep
Thinking, in a moment of late, exhaustion-induced confusion, that it was you.
But sunlight, and morning
Broke the truth
It was only the cat, curled up at my back.
And you are still dead;
You are still dead.
I feel like if I push you hard enough
And I’ll be
Back where I belong
For a slow-time, there is peace
and it is not fragile, it is not weak
it will roar like the lion, like the guarding beast
I WILL NOT GIVE IN TO THIS ANGER IN ME
I lose my breath for the ways we wept
Carving our chains from the sorrows we claim
I curse my hands as they build my plans
The coffin sized for me that I lovingly heed
Each step towards my death I shriek as I grin
I cannot stop mourning even as I descend
Why do we not cease all this clamor and doubt?
I know what will save me but I grieve anyhow
We built our own tomb-traps but we gild them and stay!
filling the rooms with silver decay
Floating our corpses in gold-blood and gloom
We’re certain this death will not be the last
We’ve died so many times in the past
Sometimes the greatest poetry…
Rage, silent storm;
Is the absence of any.
The quiet, heavy ladled
Only over the story..
You would tell, but refuse.
Respect me, or I will blow your memory like dust into the wind.
You do not deserve any acknowledgment from my breath.
Well my unknowing met my feeling
And the two have gone to quarreling
They do not like to share.
And the heart-space, rarely there, has grown weary of their fight.
I will simply call it a night
Let spill the sizzling hilt of sword
that dams your flooding blood with steel
the lapping blade, its greedy stains
which bring the coping rain.
My vision blurs, I sink and swirl
and every cell within.
my poison will never win
I vomit ink to cure the meat
of pages of empty sin.
Make me a steak of refusal-fate
and I’ll spit in my hand and grin.
I’ll slay whatever filthy hound
would cut my bile with gin.
I don’t know who I am when all these wordlets nip my skin