Death Cell Blues

…got… the death cell blues…

what do I do… what do I do…

waiting… wondering…

 

… I the smashed clock…

its dial I dare not watch…

 waiting… listening…

 

each tiny sound… every footstep…

waiting… wondering…

how long now?

 

… waiting for the darkness

for my shortest day…

…my racing mind

 

… heightened imagination

waiting… wondering…

how long now?

 

any sudden trip…

but in that brief moment…

 imagining that drop to obscurity

 

You will never hear me say
that I desire to fix you,
because that would mean
[in some way, shape, or form]
that you were broken.
And you can tell me
about all of the battles
that you claim you’ve lost,
and all of the monsters
who’ve trampled your heart.
It won’t change the fact
that you still choose to love
with the utmost pristine compassion
under the utmost detrimental conditions.
So, my love,
please believe me when I say
that the last thing you need
is fixing.

I think that if you let me,I’d treat you like the sky,
I’d join up all your insecurities
and bundle all your flaws.
I’d create a new constellation
and search for it endlessly.

I know you don’t see yourself,
the way I see you.
And you still argue,
when I call you beautiful.
But all the things you can’t stand
about yourself,
are all the things I can’t
go a day without,

I think that if you let me,
I’d build an observatory,
just to show you
that all stars
will never shine as bright
as you.

The first time I say I love you, your face
crumbles. You look at me
the way man stares in terror
at the stars and the sea.

You grasp your head, fist
your hair, hiss, whisper why me
why me I am weak I am
dirt I am dust I am
nothing—

Why you? Because
the earth is made of dust
and dirt and you are as
essential to me as earth
is to sky; you give me something
to set my sun against.

The dirt and the dust are not
weak. I could build a house
out of you; you are the roof
when I rain.

Poem by http://whatladybird.tumblr.com/

Rain Orchestration

If only I could capture the fragmentary phenomena
Cascading in the manifold of starry light upon my life.
To cool and condense the elemental
Rolled smoothly to marble between my palms—
Those lost temperaments, scenes, impulses
Perpetually escaping me in the transience of time,
In the flux of the human condition.
Ah, to anchor them strung, beaded, twinkling and tinkling
On a line I could follow to its end…

I would learn the persistence, the fortitude, the courage
To not swallow back my desired, unuttered hello’s;
To feed the eternal appetite for exposure, experience, vitality;
To forge wholly the fervent artistic compulsion into being;
To actualize the untold potential of those lustrous, frothing dreams…

Let the burden of these unnameable ghosts lift
As I learn to catalyze the reactions towards metamorphosis.
And I can imagine these crystalline globules falling
In an inwards rain of chroma, tastes, and luminance
Not as a storm of dissemblance to never master,
But as the melting of inertia, of sleep, this abdicator of fulfillment.

i want you
with all the cracks
and the stories
you’ve collected
and i want to
hear them all
and kiss you
just as i did
before i heard
them when you
were pure in
my eyes
but what is purity anyways?
some bullshit concept
made up to keep the guilt alive
you are not your past
you are the woman
who climbed those walls
and jumped over them
to where we met
we met at the other side