The Only Shrine I’ve Ever Known
The whole world is soft shades of grey
Punctuated by your eyes:
Clouded pieces of sea glass worn smooth
Through the tireless waves of nights lost to loneliness;
You lead me, hand in hand, to the oceanside,
"There is magic here"
You exclaimed excitedly,
"Here, words have power."
"Words have always had power"
I hummed, waters retreating before a fixed stare,
"Words were meant to be whispered to waves,
Overheard and carried by the wind rustling the dune’s crest;
Words were meant to be borne then buried in unmarked sands
where they can be felt, but not seen.
Words have too much power, they should never be seen."
"I’ve seen yours..." you said, uncertain.
"Broken castles waiting to be recycled” I replied,
“those are the only words I’ve ever known."
The sun is a cancer,
Airborne and contagious,
Oil spilling across a gaping horizon
I laid myself down, a canvas on felt,
Backlit and see-through, and you discovered
Obelisks anchoring my chest to the next life;
Observed a prison of neglected monoliths
collapsing in on themselves.
collapsing in on some center.
Holding me fixed, and holding me under.
You asked for three words.
Honestly, I told you:
"I grew up in the city,
there are no words."
Blow up the sun, let the fires rest,
Destruction makes the world burn
brighter than any star.
Freedom never felt so sweet:
Pulling the darkness from out my throat.
Laying with the sand, feeling the waters strip me bare:
A shade of blood
For every emotion I’d ever experienced.
Sunsets paint the sands black,
I’ve never felt more alone:
Salted wounds and cold sores,
I’ve never felt more at home.
Long shadows mark still longer days
Silences punctuated by a gentle swing and sway
of chimes, of wind, of fleeting shade;
Freedom never felt so sweet,
But damn did it taste bitter.
The Only Pyre I’ve Ever Known
The fires outside, they’re burning,
Burning for themselves a home.
The fire is inside of you
burning your eyelids dry,
burning for itself a home.
I have an hourglass mind,
the sand has collapsed to ash;
I have an hourglass of ash,
but no longer a home to burn.
You can’t surprise me anymore;
I am never surprised.
Silence is the cure for cancer;
Silence is the modern miracle.