045: Living inside me

Standing on the pier

that pierces the seam

of a sea of stone,

sacrally alone,

starflesh dives the rim.

Breathing caves of fear,

housed in crumbling lungs;

if I dare pry,

hear the crystal cry,

bells of waking rung.

Trickling dusk draws near

and heralds the dark night,

lightning in the soul,

imprint in the coal,

the end in living light.

Stabbing steps do sear,

disease march 'cross the ice,

every breath, a knife,

still, the kiss of life,

building paradise.

044: Words for weak flesh

Awakened

by somatic whispers,

cavern lung

caving in,

coiled by the black,

every breath,

a shovel racking

moist mud.

Strings of seconds,

shapeless, nameless,

rendering language useless,

always present

at the hours' cross,

sickness is,

silence exists,

clawing at the sun,

creeping through the seams.

Full speed ahead,

into the ice,

oceans of onyx

prepare the trail;

today,

tomorrow,

yesterday,

a memory

blown away

by a sour mistral.

This is a war

of still frames,

never fatal,

always wounded,

gleefully sullen

beneath a nova sky.

Ballast emote,

blast of emotion,

say the word

that's yet to be,

wriggling through the red

into the blinding

filament,

incandescent,

carrying on,

drown,

explore,

indulge / resist.

043: For a second, the world stopped.

There was agitation below,

splatter of leaves in stuttered colors

as the pendulum swung,

from nadir to zenith.

Rushed by vectors of joy,

a snapshot cyclone caved the bridge

only to raise it anew,

astray, yet cognizant.

Lifted the lid, in ache,

to the obsidian blade, wrought red,

smitten by the sun

before a perfect dawn.

And the child laughed,

his pearl mouth, straight from a scripture,

while darkness, amoebic, snug in,

like a pet, in his warm absence.

Within the morning gleam,

blood seeped through his feather crown,

along the scaly coils,

for dust to coalesce.

It took seasons in seconds

to remember the myth I never forgot;

and throughout the confines,

sleepless chains shook.

You whispered it gently,

in dual incarnations, guiding light azure,

thus, infernal and tender,

I will rest in awe.

042: Healing dance

Information amok besieging the gates of reason,

a stop sign is ignored in spiteful fashion,

ask questions but sometimes the answer is blank,

drifting on the river, fishing fragments of passion.

At the end of the hallway there's an unlocked door,

winding steps fly into equilibrium,

tectonics intact from petrified pumping,

still seeking the flame, burn cryptosporidium.

In a late hour, bleeding, reality serrate,

from the ramparts I still see myself, not lost,

with a silver bullet gun to banish demons from the mirror,

from sweetest lips, never ignore what matters most.