The Hiatus

Raining with endless gems,
The creature lives to ignore
The senseless that it abhors
To throw sunshine back and forth.

But time and time again,
It shrinks to see itself.
And all the same depress its livid mind
Into the endless pit of its chest.

For creatures are messy things.
And things are endless void.
And creatures fruiting other creatures,
Is senseless death and birth.

To live by and by with this,
Is why they were born.
So, day and day with this,
The creature goes on and on.

But you are the moon,
That shines with endless beauty.
Unquestionable, unfathomable,
On top of everything else.

And you are the stars,
That live with pointed shapes.
Hurting the imagination.
Living and dying beyond reach.

And then there was me,
An abomination of the creature.
Birthed by your silken skin,
Killed by your apathy!

You say that we do not come for you
As swiftly as your flowers bloom.
That when we come at all,
You’ve long since thrown the flowers away.

We say that we do not love
This thing that you call love.
And that those that give you splendor
And all things that are pleasant,
Torments us from birth to eternity and back.
And that which you throw away,
We keep even when withered and old.

For you, love is life
While for us, it is death.
For when love knocks on your door
You gain the world
While we lose it.
And that everything
We have earned for a lifetime,
Even that which you despise,
We lose, when we see
The world in your eyes.

Yes, we suffer when we love.
We lose sight of the colors
Of the grass.
We lose love for the sweet smells
Of that which is none of you.
We die a silent death
That we hide behind our wrinkles.
We die to wait until you return.
Until you come and claim us
From our misery.

For indeed we were born for you!

Stand still.
Let me smudge blood to your cheek,
To liven up that pallid complexion
And give you a little of my smell.

Stand still.
Let my fingers stroke your silken hair
And decorate them with my fingers.
Let them be left with your smell.

Stand still.
Love my hands as they crawl through your neck,
To grasp your head closer to mine.
Let me smell your soul.

Stand still.
And welcome the breath of my nose.
As you welcome my soul, numb your brain,
Let your blood rush to your eyes.

Stand still.
As we kiss our way amidst the world.
Amidst the flow of the rivers.
Amidst the roaring thunders.
And the angry tempest of the evening rain.

Poetry is a shelter;
A sanctuary.
Where mesmerizing
Reflections
Of the Sun dwell –
Dancing
With caustics
To put life
To the darkness
Of the soul.

I thought I was innocent,
But I’m being punished.
I didn’t start this,
But I have to finish it somehow.
I can’t say I didn’t know about it,
But I don’t remember taking part in it.
I get the feeling my freedom cost me dearly,
But I don’t remember selling my soul cheaply.

Hey, hey!
Until I die and say goodbye…
Hey, hey!
…no one will ever catch me.

You probably don’t know the eternal outlaws
Who wander the distant night.

If I cut my wrist
And remove my hand,
Will I die from bleeding?
As I celebrate the pain
Of slowly losing sanity
Amidst the continuous
Draining of blood
From my head?

If I turn this light off
And lurk in darkness,
For all eternity,
Will your hand touch
My cold forehead?
And pray that my soul
May wander
Inside the recesses
Of your ever
Withering heart?

For this specter
That I call self
Is trapped at the center
Of my universe.
While everything else
Is rotating,
Living, loving,
Realizing.
And throwing scattered words
Of age and wisdom.
While I glutton over
Feelings of hate and love,
Over
And over
Again.

The only escape I see
Is to disappear…

Into the placid breeze
Like a speck of cremated dust.
And fly from your nose
To your lungs.
To smell your sentience,
Feel your heart,

And see the world
Through eyes
Of non-existence.

Forever…

    Like tiny stones from heaven I hear raindrops hit our roof.  Corrugated then fragile, our roof produces music as the rain dances for it.  Without a ceiling, I hear the clasps directly, magnified to a level no other child of my age could enjoy.  Lying while it’s raining, directly beneath the roof, I can imagine the cold raindrops hitting my body.  I could see the blurry landscape rendered by the soothing tempest.  And I could hear the playing laughs of the children just outside.