WIP

Photo by Claudia Soraya on Unsplash

She sits pale and sinister in our windows.

There is no escaping her, her hideous smile,

her gnashing bones, her nothingness.

On those rare nights when she is invisible

her phantom still rejoices in your great, hanging shadow.

She is your moon, the impenetrable heartbreak

which holds us hostage in a nightmare of togetherness.

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The Thin Places

For every fire you drive into me

another quietly perishes.

Of all my selves the one

that you most occupy

is the least recognizable

and it is for this reason

that I love you.

Arranged by you, for you

I bloom, morose but wild

for it is chaos which feeds us.

My heart gives way

first to a garden and then later on

to a coffin of unrequited stars.

It is in the thin places

that I will make a home

for the two of us.

Nothing is real

least of all the taste of you

which falls over me

like an avalanche

of sweet, sullen dreams.

I touch the darkness

with my naked skin.

Your loneliness,

is heavier than my loneliness

because I am after all here

even if you do not see me.

I am forever consummate,

forever yours

and if that matters to you

then I have lived enough

for one day.

Dragonfly

Photo by David Hofmann on Unsplash

We dance together

underneath

a murky, blue-black sky

praying that the stars

will align in our favor.

Whether delusion or gift

I offer my wings

for a taste of the earth.

Your hands press into

my curves and indentations

with mammalian intensity.

I am wearing only

the heat of your skin in proximity

but somehow I still have this sense

of wanting to undress myself

as if I can’t abide the barriers

of flesh, blood, and bone.

The moon languishes

in a nest of loose, gray wool.

Like a dragonfly

she anticipates our movements

and wherever she lands

madness soon follows.

I am wearing only

the impressions of our bodies

as they twist and turn

to a savage chorus of heartbeats

and stomping feet.

I want you to gut me

like a small fish, metaphorically speaking,

so that nothing remains concealed by a veil

of materialism and objectification.

I want to be loved at the marrow,

in the buttery richness

of my innermost voids.

I need a man who understands

all the shapes and dimensions

a soul can assume when paired

with a human body.

There is a whole world

of experiences eager to pass

through my senses.

Sublime or savage

I want to move as the moon

through the tides, phases

and erotic overlays

of an imprecise darkness.

My stomach issues have returned after a rather short period of remission.

Animal

Photo by Donnie Ray Crisp on Unsplash

In the half darkness

I sleep naked,

your body

wrapped around my body

like a fisherman’s net.

We fill up

the whole bed

with our animal heat

but there is too much

punctuation between us

to ever find that familar

animal rhythm.

I close my eyes

when you masturbate

because I usually can’t shake

the humiliation of never

being chosen.

The room

smells

as if it were

an extension of us

and most nights

you press your face

into my hair and breathe

in my scent

as if it were a drug.

You seem to love me

but not in all the ways

I want to be loved.

I miss you,

not because you are

absent

but because

you are not all there

you are not

in everything

you are half-way.

Some nights

I am so there

that I can feel myself

merging with your pulse

and the shadows

which crawl from one corner

of the room to the other.

In that sinister state

of primal alertness

I want things

to happen to my body.

So I sleep

and I dream about you

and for a little while

it doesn’t make any difference

that it’s just my imagination.

I don’t want

to stand still

forever

I need to be seen,

known, experienced

in order to feel

that I am alive.

Love is not a game

of paper, rock, scissors.

Whereby I am always paper

and you are either

abusing or abused.

It’s about communion

and there is absolutely nothing

unholy about sex.

Growing Back My Virginity

Photo by Oscar Ivan Esquivel Arteaga on Unsplash

In the blank, covetous darkness

you reach down like lightning

and the whole of my soul

surges forward in a greeting

that is simultaneously

obscene and disconsolate.

We both know that nothing

will come of your touch

but for several minutes

we bounce gently together

our bodies pressed tight

as a stack of porcelain plates.

In the heat of starvation

we evaporate slowly

and I hate to say it

but months of anticipation

have turned to something

that feels a lot like

dread and indifference.

If you crack my bones

you will find nothing

but ink and the cinders

of a once formidable fire.

I don’t want to be

forbidden, excepted,

a penumbra suspended

fitfully between two worlds.

Rainbow Adjacent

Photo by Rhett Wesley on Unsplash

Never surrender to pretense

when there’s a door

or a window or the faintest flicker

of the vacuity and vastness

that is conscious awareness.

Let your laughter dissolve

the clouds that overshadow

the fiery indolence of youth

and lie down with me

on a sun-saturated patch of dirt

underneath a tree

who speaks to God

about the seductive wisdom

of certain fruits and reptiles.

We can get married

and arrange things together

in organized piles

and pretend that wishes

are our best kept secrets.

For example I promise

not to test the water

before drowning

in any adjacent rainbows.

The only halo

I want wrapped around me

is your smile.

I don’t have wings

but my hands

hardly ever touch the ground.

There are so many ways

to strangle the life

out of a relationship

I never thought

that my love for you

would become a weapon

until I realized

that its content

was mostly rocks

and that what I took

for sophistication and spontaneity

was just a sly way

of crossing the street

without being recognized.

Magic like everything else

turns out to be real

right up to the point

that it enters into the eye

and in that still, viscous pool

everything takes on

an air of artificiality.

Deep down I think we know

that nothing is real or realized

outside of ourselves

which is why

you are an angel

and I wear a grin that looks

more like a bread knife

than a waning crescent.

This is the third poem of the day. The others I am planning to submit. I hope this one came out okay!

Wordle #284

Even the flames of appetite

pass unanswered and unremarked

in the faux pas and arrogance of a new dawn.

You were never final,

never trustworthy,

never one to answer my prayers,

spoken or otherwise,

but in a dank and inscrutable darkness

we made use of our bodies

and created a moment

which felt very much like an always.

I watched you sleep

from a distance

and from a distance

you looked very much like love.

So much so that

I left my number

carelessly beside your phone

and put on your sweater

instead of my own.

Add Me

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

My heart became

a magnifying glass,

a weapon of light

and ongoing deformation.

I do not mean to burn with love

but I am desperate

and lacking in imagination.

All eyes and no soul

my heart looked into yours

and fell against its little bone door

with fear and trembling.

If I let you in

I will never be free of myself.

Eyes opened or closed

you will always see me.

Love became a thing,

an extraordinary and incomprehensible thing.

Even if I give doubly of myself

I will never be able to earn it

because that is not part of the exchange.

I always seem to be missing

something and that absence

creates a distance between myself

and the object of my interest.

How can 1 plus 1 be of more value

than 1 times 1?

Multiplication seems so powerful

until the numbers are forced

to confront the possibility of solitude.

Maybe we need each other to grow.

Maybe that’s why my value never rises.

When I think about it

I have been searching

for someone

that I can occupy.

I want to be a ghost

in your home.

To be with you,

to be seen and not seen,

to possess intermittently,

and above everything to dream.

I have been struggling with Depression fiercely lately even though I feel I have so much to rejoice and have been on some lovely adventures lately and have also received tremendous support and love.

Sunday Confessionals: Quoting

#jacobnordby

It was everything at once.

The ground became a sea

and the walls that sorrow had fashioned

around my heart gave

and I found the space

and the depth to bring you closer.

With every struggled breath

I learned how to ride

the currents

and overcame my fear

of drowning.

When at last I became the water,

the water turned to air

and I learned to dance

without the crutch of gravity.

I obtained new heights.

I found within myself

the stars and all their glory.

When at last I became the stars

the stars turned to fire.

I learned how to burn,

to transform, to inspire

and when I thought

I can learn no more

I became a seed.

(I may go back and work more on this. I was in a hurry.)

Loneliness

Photo by Geoffroy Hauwen on Unsplash

I wait for you

as if it were myself

that were absent.

It is strange

how a body

filled with blood and air

and countless,

infinitesimally small lifeforms

can feel so empty.

Every moment can be

traced back to you,

especially those moments

which have not taken place.

I wanted you to be there

spilling past my margins

like sunlight through a window.

In the presence

of ecstatic couples

I think of how it might feel

to connect heart to heart

with another human being

and it haunts me.

Given the right angle

and the right intention

I feel certain

that our bodies

could become singular.

But the stars never overlap

and it seems

that I am meant

to occupy my own

solitary space indefinitely.

If ever my light

should touch you

I hope that you

will think of me

and remember as I do

all the things

that never happened.