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Keeping here,painted in smears,letting goof teardrops from a moonwhose face is that of a silver trace,whose presence waitsfor another night, seeing me, unanswered. Broken song.A wail from a throat,and in the reiterating of speech, I repeat what I thoughtwas never said, was never repeated, was never saidwhen we were never wed. It was said,a long…
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Evenshould we belast to shine,we’re still special,still held captiveunder our spell.We won’t lose evena single glimmer,felling our resplendenceon an open wide,envious world.Evenif death comesto collect,we’ll still knowwhat we builtwith bloodied hands.Our eyes,buried in shared flesh,closes all woundsafter catching sightof offered light.Our hands,closed upon our halos,tremble no more,while our stepsare carving into earthwhat we are.
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It’s the gapsthat keep returning.It’s the imageryoften reused,once daylightreaches its brink.I’m looking overa cliff’s edge,rediscovering a trailthat leads meinto vapor.Another breathto retreat with,bandaging a damaged,foiled life,through amends.I let a hand go,made the roar deafen me,allowed a certain sicknessto keep accusing me.Death is a homefor someone else.I won’t be therewhile the yearskeep me movingon self-made streams.Tears…
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Outstretched arms.What do you seek?More of a stormhas been rising.It’s been apocalypticto even recognize you,while you remainmiles from the truth.Lost at sea,unable to seeyour faceyou are tryingto describe,upon a plea.Love could anchor youto infinity.Cities could build youinto security.Dried up as a leaffallen from autumn’sfatal decline,you rush downstream,remembering wordsfrom endlessrehearsal.It’s the time,is what you saywhen you…
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Our anchor,it swings,becoming a pendulum,erasing structureupon symmetricalimpact.Both ways,it handles destruction,it shares sensations.Does it everoverpower us,over somethingwe forgotto devour?We mighthave been blind.How would we see it?Our rushhad always beensingular.Our fateswere always caughton cold endeavors.Stains for our souls,outside of reachof deliverance.Split secondsthriving on Hell,turning to Heavenfor a saviorcame too late.Our towers,they’re coming down.We’re coating our throatswith layers…
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Such darknesshad nowherefor you to hide.Yet, it had one directionfor me to run.It was where lightknew to be,always knows whyit is valued.Among an arrangementwhere infinitycannot be counted,you weren’t ableto be described.I’d run outof words to use.Or I’d suffocateupon desperation,forgetting to breathe.Among that void,you flickered,like a ghostin the fog.You went somewhereI can’t be,for some time.I’ll take…
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For steps to count,mistakes to makein the knowledgeof what we’ll taketo the grave.Passing stoneswe had to step around.Dropping tearswe had to abandon.Growing griefas our eternal haunt.Our gardenhas no roots,trampled ever sincewe gave birthto our breath,when it quickenedupon a singlefearful question.Who are we,in this gale,under this hail,within a stormwhere we aredoomed to set sail?Our lives,when separateis…
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To scream.To leavewith icethat follows us,that has our back.We’re dreaming.We’ve been beggingfor somethingmore than our state.This isn’t lastinglonger than an instant,while eyes are on trackfor the past.What are we feeling,after we’re used upfor another time?A face stayswhen it freezesas a brief,simplistic memory.Nothing’s complexabout this,as everything’s distantin our closeness,touching skin,emptying eyes,until embersreveal what’s left.
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Position defeatjust outside of reach,for you to prolongyour decline,for you to drag outwhat youhave underlined. On a shoreline,burning from a sunset,its sand as one color,you are wandering. From a skyline,from your journeyto pilot desertion,you’re here too long. Tragedy has becomeyour songsto lull yourselfto a non-lethal sleep. Vacancy has wonyour heart,beating just to bea white noise.…
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I’m too adriftto be given grace,to be alloweda single secondof space. For I want to redrawwhat won’t berevived for me. It’s just a signof loudestdesperation. I could wailwith these sails,burning in windsthat cut skintoo looseto be attachedto this form. I’m driving this rainflooding these decks,left to rotin a startled heart. Terrified eyes,rushing cheeksare representingthe sudden…
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Light shinesthrough tearstainedgaps betweenyour fingers. You’ve once risen,just to playlike a child,this time in ashes. In them,you can recountwhat you lost,when the sandsare too infinite. Without them,you are the dust,a single flakedescended froma ravaged Heaven. You’ve cut tieswith the shifts,to forge the rifts,outside the purityin life’s unpredictability. You’ve foldedyour form,from front to back,injecting scarlet secretsin…
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It happens,in simple moves,for complex wants. When the dirtburies your eyes,could you still see? Can you believethe lengthof such wounds,some mortal,others minor. You burn throughthe pagesto get to the end,where your ghostthrashes about,without limbs. This fear compelsyour ambitionto elevatethe blood,the flood. This state determinesyour anticipationover the yearsthat followfrom below.
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It’s the rebellious artist who rejects form. It’s the rebellious artist who asks, “Why do we need rules?” It’s the rebellious artist who believes that boundless freedom can be the catalyst for countless avenues for creativity to flow. What makes an image not a complex mess is what it specifically means. A white canvas remaining…
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