Sunday, January 4, 2004

I'm in a Slump.

nurse with the care
i came to my bed
the lonely night going on
there i pushed back the covers.

my pillow—captured in the sheets—
fell.
i felt the found pillow; it was warm—
a warm kind of cold.
for in that moment
i realized something
a most screaming something.

when i felt that pillow
an image appeared within my head.
spun round me, vivid shown.

a woman's black hair
her decayed flesh
decadent, and the stench.
i felt she had layed on my pillow
in the most odd of images i have seen.

she imagined me
and i imagined her
would we once lie together in our bed?
would we kiss another on the lips?
that we would.

that we would indeed.
for she—
she is in me.
i am most certain.

she would idle me in that bed one day
her kissing me, feeling my hair.
twirling round the bed as we lie.

we would be lovers—
her and i.
lovers as we lie in bed.
she would end all my pain
would kill all i had.
she would rape me till i was lost.
and left to wander lone.
she would end all my pain
would kill all i had.
she would rape me till i was lost.
and left to wander where no one knows.

she is a thin lady, in us all.
most thin, petite,
her skull is sometimes shown
through her wilted skin.
she wears little clothes—
only teathers.
little clothes, only teathers.

and her and i—we would lie in our bed
she would penetrate me,
violate me.

she would take it all away
through her kisses
much too cold to be embrace.
with her tongue in my mouth
she would taste.

she is beautiful
she is most serene.
she is the lover of all beings.

will i meet her one day?
it is most certain
and most grave.

for the nurse of life
shall kiss me all away.

stop my brain—
then my heart—
then my body shall waste and rot.
she shall kiss me
all away.
nourish me, feed me,
she'll rot it all away.

she'll rot it all away—
that nurse with the care.

the one with death black hair.

one by one
when the planets hit the sun
when it was built—one by one—
the insanity of who did it,
the insanity of it all.
who would do it, or did it?
i will fall.

i will fall back down
the hole.
the deepest reaches
the deepest wall.

when the planets hit the sun—
when rendered was i one by one
there i found
breathing harder
through my lung.
and there was i rendered
one-by-one.

pressure and time
pressure and time,
a rock is held in my hand.
that a thing that cannot think
is tougher than me is a fallacy;
but is true, and that must i see.

deep in fire
deep in ash;
magma, lava,
burning rash.
deep in time,
chasms past
rendered, built, fashioned fast.
that is where this rock
was built.

obsidian dream
within my palm.
i crush it.
it does not break
it does not mend.

but my palm
now bleeds
a fresh wound.

deep in fire
deep in ash;
magma, lava
burning rash.
deep in time,
chasms past
rendered, built, fashioned fast.
the rock was built there—and from it
it shall last.

but i—
i was not made by pressure and time
i was made by two bleeding hearts,
a duet of rose.
i was fashioned from an ovaries' woes.
deep in blood, with no gashes to show.

pressure and time
does now jade me.
it now scrapes and plays me.

and like this rock—
this strong, hard thing.
that is what i will be.
but much more frail than it seems.
for it is tough—and it is sharp.
but with time comes dull's incessant tarp.
a tarp built wide over my eyes.
and wide over me.
forever hiding
what once breathed.

there i find, as i may
that this rock is harder, and may stay.
but pressure and time shall break me.
shall take me in its depths.

will i be a rock when i die?
it's not the question, nor where it lies.
for i accept my fragmented belie.
i accept pressure and time.

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