Bam!

I moved in,
She moved off
To the side
In a jerk.

The rest of the evening
Was very nice
I look forward
To seeing her again,
But

There is something to be said
In that there really is,
More regret
In not making the attempt.

Now I think
I'm going to do
The dignified thing
And move off to the side,
In a jerk
Or maybe two.

Match

Was thinking of something
To etch, into my body
Something
Didn’t have to be profound
But I’d have to be able to stand it
For however long I’m kicking.

My brain got locked
Kept me awake
On a lit match
Standing straight up
Maybe facing outwards on my right arm.
Blocky shading
Monochrome,
Something simple.

Figured maybe it’d be an apt metaphor
That I could wear while I breathe
And the picture,
Like reality
Would turn to ash once I’m gone.

But the light it cries out
While consuming
As it falls
As we fall
Through an expanding darkness
Is never extinguished,
Even long after it
Like this idea
Is dust on your window.

Which makes me wonder
How long the light I burn
From consuming,
Will continue as I fall
As it falls,
We all fall
Through this expanding darkness
And I am dust on your window.

Spinning

I think I'm far too comfortable
Sitting in this office chair,
Spinning occasionally
When nothing demands my attention.
Living on a setup of wheels
Ballbearings and pneumatics.

I can look up at my ceiling
A few feet above my head
A stucco ceiling
And imagine the girl who lives
Within a few feet of me,
I've never met her.

I'm not sure I will.

She lives above me
In an apartment with ceilings
Quite a few feet higher than mine
I'm sure.

She can spin as her music plays
At a rather polite volume, I must say.
She can twirl, and I'd wager
She probably looks great as she dances
But when she turns her head upwards
Maybe we're spinning in unison.

I'm sure its probably just me,
Elsewise my story sense is taking over
Because no one else thinks about this shit
Really, I'm sure,
But maybe
Maybe we're both pondering the stars
As we spin
And they spin
On a world that spins
Around a star that spins
Several hundred kilometers
Per second faster
Than either of our minds can fathom.

Maybe we'll ponder
The speed we're moving
As we whip around that
Angry inch of heat in the sky
That is so large
That it juggernaughts your imagination
Simply at the attempt to concieve of it.

So you can understand why
I don't even want to risk
Imagining the velocity
Our solar system is moving
As it sails around the galaxy.

You know,
Unless she is fantastically nerdy
I doubt she knows this
But I do,
Reality is expanding.

Space itself, is expanding
Always has been,
The space between everything
Is getting larger
Bit by bit
And its happening everywhere

The implication is
loneliness.
An empty sky
So large with
Spaces so large
That light will never bounce
And tell stories.

So maybe I should introduce myself,
While I can
Get to know her
While I can
But I probably won't.

Screams

Tear the air apart
Vibrations to rock and rip
Silence asunder

Impassioned with noise
Pushed past my breaking point
Spit passion to wind.

So fuck the quiet
And your meek mannerisms
Break it with my screams.

Sweat

I don't know how universal it is,
But I feel
the most alive
When I've pushed myself half to death,
And the sweat
That pours off my brow
Is likely the last that I have.

Its a passion play

When my muscles scream promised pain
And I feel them tearing
So visceral
That I can imagine the
Sanguinary torrents
Flowing inside me.

Everytime
My heart is ripped
Bloody from my ribs
And I become a weepy
Pathetic lump
Lacking for self respect,
For some reason
The instinct to grab life
And squeeze it,
Break it and
Crush it,
So that I can consume what comes out
Cries out in my mind.

I really can't wait,
For the next time I'm hip deep,
In shit,
At some new existential nonsense.
And I have to reconcile
Some horrendous personality flaw
Or logical contradiction
So grievous
That the framework of who I am
Tumbles down once again

So when it hits the floor
I can stare up
And build to even loftier heights

I like when the sweat gets in my eyes.
When the salty sting promises
More punishment to come,
Any affirmation that reacts in water
Reminds me to breathe.

Because sometimes,
When I'm bored
I forget.

The Tree on the Hill

Visitors called to the tree on the hill,
Drawn cautiously by painful wails and moans.
My praises in love to the sun so shrill,
They came at first in concern for my tones.

But in just moments they make healing speak,
Wiping clean the remains of my dried blood.
I wore it to the world, for I am weak,
My roots sip succor from the filth, and mud.

Their fingers trace the echoes of my skin,
Flaking crags speak of a man in dryness,
Rightly starved by the seed fighting my sin.
My mouth flicks my tongue pale and pityless-

"You move on your own for selfish desires,
But you will find naught but fallen empires!"

My visitors, their voices are distraught
In guilt I think, their shame is plain to see.
My brittle lips prattle on burning hot
With a branding love, I preach in pure glee.

Feel the joy within me, as words push forth
Praiseful pronouncments to their sins inside!
They are filthy wretches lacking for worth,
Needing more than anything, barky hide.

They turn away as rage fills up their cells,
I spit hateful implications they cry!
That walking strong as they do for themselves
They still were concerned that my roots were dry.

That retort brings pain. I am the victim!
Inner filth! It is the meat of my hymn!

Looks of disgust painted broad and with depth,
My renewed cries of pain send them away,
But one stops and trembles, his voice wet wept.
Oh Brother! On this hill? You are here to stay!

His fellows plead reasoned encouragements
Pithy heartwarming naturalists.
But his mind is in the seed's battlements,
Soon he'll know just Photosynthesis.

Like I did, he erupts in blood and sprout,
Transfigured from flesh to fiber,
Encased in bark, he'll never know doubt
As he supplies both wafer and cider.

The seed will keep us safe from weather's wear
On this hill, growing for the fruit we bear.

Compromised

I'm suspended in some
Viscous murk
And I can't see my hand
When I wave it in front of my face.
My eyes can open whenever I want them to,
But it really doesn't matter.

Because when the sun finally rises,
Exposing wonder to my open eyes
He will still be closing in on me.

Walking calmly and with open hands
In his suit and tailored finery.
He'll be wielding some wicked knife,
Roughly sharpened into a wave
Like a garish knife for ceremonies
Some aztec priest might use
To cut out your heart
And hold it aloft for light.

With every step he takes
He begs me,
Pleads-
And I can even notice as his voice trembles
In desperation
To be allowed to prune my mind,
And weed around the edges-
To cut something out that terrifies him
In me.

But everytime his hands touch me,
Grab me in gloved hands
On my shoulders to comfort,
I'm always confused that he is
So utterly gentle.
That he assures me,
He wants the best for me,
That this is what friends are for.

I find that if I ever consent
To one of his logical propositions
Something in my gut
Makes me push forth flower petals
As an explosive oral warning
To the pressure building in my mind,
And at the back of my throat.
The petals paint the air
In all too cheerful hues
Garish and without nuance
Before falling to nothing.

But pain inevitably follows
When he is unimpressed
By my previous outburst
Proceeding to effortlessly catch me
In one fallacy or another
And I really don't know why
It doesn't wake me up out of this,
Because it has to be a dream
As it rips through me.
Tearing me apart.
As the roots of,
What I fear is
Some malignant idea, spreads its fibers
Through every inch of mine.

But they don't ever stop
As the sprouts spring
From the seed in my core,
Way down past any doubts
I may have posssessed.
They push and rip
Splitting and tearing
Skin from muscle
And bone from sinew.
Tearing my fingers from their nails,
Bursting them apart like little
Red blossoms in the air
Only to have them quickly replaced
By flower buds.
Flaying me asunder,
To pieces and pieces
And pieces
Even worming through from my soul
And forcing through
The ones under my feet
Rooting me so permanently to the soil
That I fear I'll never
Move past this point.

My eyes become hard to open,
Under the shade of a blooming flower
That has grown out of
Where my brain was supposed to be,

It tells me it loves me.

It says that before my eyes offend me,
Before they must be plucked
Like any offending growth,
They must be covered and hidden
From this world of lies.

The bloom in my skull assures me,
The beauty of the grain
And the cool moisture from my roots,
Can be reveled in forever.
But just before I close my eyes
I can see the man-
My friend,
Is terrified of me,
His blue eyes mirror mine back
In terror at the unmoving ornament
That I am becoming.

The rest of whatever is left
Of my pallid and broken skin hardens
Becomes inhuman and strange.
It is replaced by the defenses
The weed from inside me,
Assures me I need.

I eventually stand
At the heart of,
What has torn me apart.
With the remainder of
My life's blood beating only
To sustain the cancer that has grown
From its roots inside me.

I can't hear descent,
Its a wooden echo.
Nor the pleading the man is making
To be allowed one last chance
To save my mind
And to bring back
To wretched friend he loved.

I imagine him sighing,
Weeping a tear for my vanity
Gritting his teeth
And resolving to do
What he feels he knows is right.

What a fool.

When he attacks,
His knife
And every other tool he procures
Will bounce so beatlessly
Without bite
Off of my bark.

When he gives up,
And he will.
I'll stay right here forver,
Unmoving.
Reaching for the sun.

I can feel its love,
Deep within my soul.
So, come stand with me,
And revel
In what I've always known,
You've been seeking.
While you're at it,
Why not try my fruit?
The seeds don't hurt too bad,

Really.