this is
what i
become,
in this
space
as i fight
in the
insomniac
hour against
my shriveling
will
it radiates outward
from my center
something akin
to peace
that static droning
in my ears, my
mind. everything
in focus
the waves of
black light
crashing within
my chest and
i flow
with it
no longer do i
impede this
darkness,
i am the
darkness
i am the
world's broken
heart
as the light
goes out of
our eyes
we stare into
the bleak distance
and behold
the darkening
enormity of
our unfinished
dream
now the
winds
tear the
blossoms
from their
homes
out in this
wilderness
amidst the
wolves
and other
beasts
i've got birds
that soar
in my heart
that scream
into the
mountains
over the trees
and above
the festering
rivers
we turned back
and watched the
ashes in the sky,
our hopes lay
gasping and the
concrete burning
beneath our feet.
from the west
the winds
will tear
the sinew
from our bones.
in this
bleak light
our tattered
hearts rest.
and all this,
i did
while you slept
i sheared the mountains
i ignited the oceans
i filled your soul
with sorrow
i did this
i did this all
i am
the broken
arrow shaft,
poisoned tipped,
in your heart
let
the sky
fall
down
into the
inimical
and
jaundiced
ocean
let
the
mountains
burn
and the
fevered
world
gasp
in the
miscellany
of these
days,
i can
feel it
come
swelling,
gripping
my skull
tightly.
constricting
my breast.
choking
my soul.
disappointment
is a way,
is the way.
the ash
fills my eyes,
nose, throat.
breathe in
deeply.
my blood
thickens,
my heart
slows.
my vision
blurs, fades,
washes out.
the lie
is accepted.
morphing
into a truth,
into the truth.
our existence
now hinges
upon
it.
i've spilled it
on myself again,
this darkening
trouble,
this deepening
sorrow,
harboring this
lament into
and through
the sweet
night
in this twilight
it seeps into
my marrow. i can
feel its darkness
set into my skeleton,
it reconfigures the
bone, my structure.
as the constellations
scrape their dead lights
across the voided
welkin in primordial
trajectories, this
blackness i become.
subsumed in its
totality. rendered
unrecognizable by
that grand usurper.
i, vaporized by the
insatiable ticking
of the second hand,
smirk at its gape.
now the shadows
speak softly
the night slithers
away. and
it is usually
in these predawn
hours that i
long for the
eternity of
those moments.
it has been years
of restless sleep
for the stirring
of the soul only
yelps and howls
when i nod and
close my eyes.
i have a keen
sense of trouble.
it's wondrous and
exhausting. i can
feel it all crumbling
deep down in my
darkness. it touches
my liquefying mind.
it spills out and
seeps through the
floor boards
eons before you wake.
when you greet me
in the morning you
are, in all actuality,
greeting someone else.
a stranger
how we loved
the yearning
of the views
unbroken
...and from
the earth
lightning
cracked
into the
ruinations
of the
extinct sky
the gift
of the six
golden kings
grows into
our empty
dawn
floating
through the
black mists
of our feigned
sanctity
the pining rain
and the hot
tar roofs
the embers
of hope
slain by
our enterprise
glow dimly
in the
choking night
now we build
towers for our
wilting hearts
through the days
of the golden
light we spoke
of salvations
sturdy oaks
groan whispers
of hope
those places of
your slumber
crackling with
fire
