i love this country

the sun comes out brightly after the rain
shining off the wet streets
and exposing the treacherous pools of water
lurking around the corners

the streets are almost empty, too
except for the hurried old woman
hooting and thumping into the back of the car
stopped at the red light

everything resolves in silence
the lady in front respecting her elder too
much to put a fist through her teeth

we could tell she wanted to, though.

"Life" with a capital "L"

that's what they call it
in soft whispers, and glazed eyes
it's god and it's heaven, and mystical ecstacy
and they say that drugs confuse people

but i thank you, from the bottom of my ringing steel bed
as its wheels roll and clatter beneath the flashes of brilliant light
as the beeps and footfalls following behind the drip
that bitterly nourishes me
through characterless swinging double doors
past wards of sad people wanting to be better

you, wearing your mask and spatterings of my blood
my knight in white, righteous, shining fucking armour
i thank you for rescuing me
from me, from my self
from monstrously calm and comfortable darkness

i watch, my heart cold, my tears drying
as you stitch chains up and around my wrists
as you tuck me in, and kiss my forehead, strap me in good night

i fall asleep staring
through shameful curtains
at some tormented guard
protecting me from these selfish sins

will i wake, some day, from these pills you've drenched in oblivion's water?

you soft-spoken, with hearts so big that care so much
such gentle aliens, for whom i am but a porcelain doll
i thought you deserved my portion more
but now i see sharp teeth in those inward-facing smiles

you give
you give
but you don't love me

on light and dark days (untitled)

the sun shines brightly
and the air is warm
but today, i hate you

yesterday was cold
and the rain poured down
but today - today i hate you

the post-rain smells of freshly painted flowers
the songs of the birds and the slow stretching of time's lazy yawn
the childlike dream of a mid-morning nap after story time as the breeze off the sea gently strokes my cheeks

today. i hate you.

leave a message at the...

Oh absent presence, Stella is not here;
False flattering Hope, that with so fair a face
Bare me in hand, that in this orphan place,
Stella, I say my Stella, should appear:

But if your lack of patience be subdued
That you could wait for Stella, she might call;
Waves' rays would shine back down as she did fall
If she had with your details been imbued.

[stolen from astrophil and stella #106]

the fort

why, when tucked snugly into bed
nestled in my love's warm arms,
underneath soft, heavy spread,
with the air-conditioner's charms,
hot sighs brushing 'cross us both,
the cold, early-morning winds
rattle at the window soft,
unable to sneak on in
through closed windows and locked doors,

do i feel an icy chill,
spread outwards from wint'ry cave
that my savage used to haunt?
what could he that memory can't?

i

the streets are filled with light and dark, they crow
barks for justice, cries to battle fiction
it's not the pull of mutual satisfaction
just the sense that we've sunk too far below
you stand there wagging tongue while armed with signs
representing one of your heart's issue
the fools pass by but they don't notice you
you don't see the others for their child rhymes
a break in numbers gives you time to rest
drop your heavy sign down by your tired feet
so that i've no idea, when our eyes meet,
that i'm smiling at someone so blessed
we've crossed our paths with guards down under moon
i pray we don't go back to sleep too soon

a brief perspective of time

i am synchronic.

i'm either in all time, or out if it.

i suppose that's simply a matter of perspective.

coming back to a diachronic moment is effort enough in itself, without that forcing me to actually do things that fit in with the future i've seen or cause a bunch of potential ones to collapse into a more definite path.

it's exhausting to keep watching all those movies of other times and universes in potentia while constantly flicking back to the main channel to keep tabs on the "important" stuff, but i've gotten used to it and it's undoubtedly addictive.

if this is psychosis, it has become normal to function through it.

the world i perceive seems to accept it and sometimes praises it.