when forever did not mean an eternity
be aware that I questioned life in its entirety.
i fixated on my flaws
and had it out with romance.
I became my true self
unreliable, hungry, and flammable.
this is my transcendental prelude,
a reminder to those who may have forgotten.
I am strong, deep, and unwavering.
I may not easily bend to changes,
or adherent to surprises.
I sleep on the same side of the bed every night,
and I stick to my daily rituals.
Fixated and reliable instincts,
I am tied to this world,
all on the strength of emotional stimulation.
Men lie. Women lie.
But children seldomly do.
soldiers will march, bombs will burst
all for Lady.
Just as she experienced war,
the kind that rings that wild bell in your heart
and shifts your kidneys and spleen.
They will endure.
Cathedrals and Bavarian castles
will erect in honor of her.
They will build new roads, coiled and curved,
to emulate her body.
A fountain will reign in the center of her city.
It would be covered with vines of wild grapes,
foiled along the sides with bronze cobras.
And all the women in town,
especially the ones with calloused hands,
and the ones with the scent of their midnight lovers still lingering
on their necks,
will come there to wash their feet
and dispense their wishes.
The men from lower parts of town
will lay their offerings at their hearth
and ask her to gift them more pleasant years
and more honorable work.
The children will frolic and dance barefooted
on the cobblestone walkways,
singing songs about her.
Even the dogs will howl
and cats will purr
at the sight of a lady in love.
how revolutionary it is to let
something you love kill you
to let something indecent
or what ever is left of it
let it claim you
all of your private thoughts,
your dangling arms,
and calloused feet
letting it fill your lungs
and spill from your lips
how sweet to be possessed and then transformed,
evolved into something more warm
and smoother around the edges.
You become nothing more than a catalyst,
the only thing mattering now
is the throbbing goodness of pleasing
the very thing we’ve become a slave to.
Her body promised such sensuality. It seemed polished with a shiny wax as she laid in the dark-blue stitch of midnight. She was a priestess in her own tiny castle. A mother to all his demons and the one to keep his bed warm. She roamed the room like a lioness, purring, marking territory that was rightfully hers. A woman, so filled with catty femininity, a fiery sex kitten. That would snatch the sun from the sky and swallow it whole. Who knew she would meet her match in a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Taking on the image of man but a wild mess. By coincidence, they were both greater proofs of wildness together. They would lull each other into dreamy embrace. Just for a moment, take possession of each other until, with pleasurable amounts of begging, return their souls to one another. She would offer her mouth to him, and he would give her life in small acts. They would kiss for momentary lifetimes and fill each others’ space with excitement. Nothing was ever planned. It all was discovered. Their sex would catch the light that streamed through from the street. Beautiful pliable sex.
After awhile it gets hard to sort through the heap of accumulated personae, those external selves as backup generators in use more than our True self. We are many things in one, a legion of inherited traits and moods and defense mechanisms. Always conflicted by love, dependence and anger. We are nothing but our phobias, obsessions, impulses, fantasies and compulsions. And what of our repression? Our unresolved conflicts, like terrible thorns on a blacken rose that cannot be ignored. We hide those thorns that need to be tended to, because we are too proud of our misfortunes, feeling as if no one deserves the weight of it all as much as ourselves. We are all hiding.
I loved him,
knowing that he was my madness in the flesh.
When we fucked
I’d take the form of all the fishes in the Sea,
And he’d be the tsunami that would tear me apart.
I can still taste sea-foam on my mouth
Still hear that kinetic funk of his,
ruling the waves.
Even recall days,
I would wait hours before washing off his scent.
At first, I was terrified.
But it became familiar,
it became the ferocity I needed in my life.
used to be a waning song that echoed in my bones
with a strong staccato and a fluttering sound,
similar to a thousand moth wings.
And I would do anything to shut it up.
But now this song was the most beautiful hymn.
He made that possible.