Survival propagates all existence
Inhale, exhale, devour, exclude
My purpose lies not in the plumage
In the masquerades of a subtle inquiry
But in the beak and talons
Of an intractable curiosity
I am not enlightened enough to say
That I live fully but I live by my design
*
Inky and indecisive my lips retreat
Into the asylum of inarticulate verbs
Beguiled by the scent of incense
I reposition my hands
Palms alabaster and rose
Like lotus blossoms
*
Heart a blackened canary perched
In starless holes of sophic exhaust
Colors mute and amorphous
Underneath a domesticated flesh
I abandon somatic concerns
*
The eyes summon scarlet and sea
A mechanical muse oiled for insertion
I know these verses, these doubts
The way they churn deep within the tracts
Of an invertebrate spine
I let them flow through me, unbroken
*
I don’t want to write of loneliness
Of those absences which elongate
Into chasms murky and fathomless
*
I don’t want to speak of genius
Of scantily clad memories
Rolled into the cylinder
Of a festering cigarette
*
I don’t want to turn another page
To calcify another sacrificial heart
With the sympathetic saline
Of a shared humanity
*
I just want to drift shapeless
On the periphery, noncommittal
Observing without accusation
*
A moment held selfishly
Underneath the tongue
Conversations with self
Too intimate for composition
=
Today I didn’t feel like writing or reading, I just wanted to be. I am in a quiet, mellow, and meditative mood
mindlovemisery 