יום שישי, 8 ביוני 2012

forgive me for my made up words


my polygamous relationship with you distances me from the monotony of monogamy and makes me feel lonelier than the loneliest mundane monogamist. my mere apologies for my misendeavors, the malnutritious morals of my miseducation propose metal mirrors and castaways controlled by cutting carvers, craving crazy letters and loyalty from lengthy lies and lonely lives. lethargy overtakes and vowels reign, raining drops like rainbows and rocks in rivers, rusting relationships, rusty railroads at intense intersections entwined in everything inside and nothing on the outside anymore except these
muscles. we are back at the beginning.
my mind marvels in the magic of the memories, the madness of the morbidity and the hesitations of your reaction. his, I take, is misunderstood as my misfortune, but it is not a miss, my fortune: it is a fox in feathers colorful like friendships 'fore their forfeited and feigned approval, forced for fear of polygamy tho' it promises the purest pleasure, the most personal independence and precious pearls of princes, princesses, powerful, plight-less
poetry.  peace surrenders,
souls surprise themselves, surprise their cells, call for curious catastrophes to take place. colorful and calm they coincide with cooperation that can not contain the context of truth, of teases, of teasers and targets and tonal dualities and we endeavor, we endear you, we dare destroy the darkness of the devil in its disguised diamonds.
words lie at my feet like pebbles of poetry and I promise personal demise, deterioration and ridiculous obsessions- there's madness to be had and fragments to be written and I play with silly alliteration instead!
serious and serene you stare as if my sanity has slowly faded and I sternly helplessly smile shyly.  I suppose you are sincerely offering me your blessing before parting, so stumbling slightly I surrender…
if this is the prevailing promise of mere mortality, I'm graciously aware I was worthy of words.

june



our kisses were as soft as our hearts & this must be the seed of all that came thereafter,
and all that didn't see light outside my mind.

perhaps our soft hearts led to my current introspection and my disposition when it comes to
pens, papers,
and all that lies
between them in truth,
in confessions by
soft tongues in shaky lips in scattered sheets in paling cheeks and blushing eyes,
in that which lies
between thought and its expression,
between brutal honesty in the heat of an oncoming summer,
in mosquito bites and my sweet blood which attracts this
violence, this heatstroke
sunshine;
it is divine,
like we imagined,
it is hectic like we desired,
it is nonsense and is madness and knows no explanation other than our
awkward silence,
our differences in imagined futures,
our various degrees of love/hate passive-aggressive
actions and feelings and resentments and appreciations;

we both are optimistic but you believe in that which counters my belief and it is
strange and unexpected and before you,
i needed someone,

and after you,
i need to be alone