Unfinished Poem

My love isn’t strong as death

Nor does the wealthy man leave being despised

My love wavers in the airless gray

And in the midnight waters it turns into a faceless name

My love isn’t fierce as the open grave

Nor do the despised venture to make this mistake

My love undulates to no rhythm, other than the erratic rhythms of fear

And as a betrayer it denies the world with that same faceless name,

and with those same empty tears

 

As a skeleton haunts the heartbeats

So does my love hunt the idyllic

Casting myself into the shadowy piles of lust

I picked the gas chamber of my choice,

invited touch, birth, and my tragic voice

To gather as we are reduced to lonely dust

And here we lay buried upon this God-forsaken earth

 

My love barely leaves my skinful lair

Nor does it burn with intoxicating aromas

My love begets all things old and serves the ebbing dramas

And I sink into an amnesic bygone,

when the wrath of God was colored in scarlet pawns

 

And now the repetition for recollection occurs,

 

My love enjoys enslavement, but can tremble for freedom

My love enjoys enslavement, but can tremble for freedom

My love enjoys enslavement, but can tremble for freedom

 

As a skeleton haunts the heartbeats

So does my love haunt the trees

Casting myself into the pits of hell

To only return, with life on my face,

air in my lungs, blood in my tears,

and sounds that belong

 

My love is swimming inside Love, my love is grappling with Love, my love is resting atop of Love, my love is Love

 

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Filed under art, Lovemaking

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