Untitled

The spine of the woman was twisted into candles,
The unborn baby reborn into heavy light,
Dripping crushed wax,
Sipping sweet stone,
With soft, ambidextrous shadows, calling in the wind.

There were a hundred different silences,
A hundred different movements,
Creeping through silky skin,
To cover her lips in blood.

We spent the night awake asking questions,
Pacing up and down the mind's furtive corridors,
Reaching no answers, only problems.

What could time say that would heal the spasms?
What voice could soothe the grit chunk of soul that was so cruelly cut off?
It comes now with technicolour clarity
Spraying its marauding pixels in deft touches
Of quickly maturing dark light.

Where did the heart go which would show compassion
In the cold yolk of existence?
Did it flitter in eyes?
Perhaps it would appear kicking and screaming
Lifted from the tissue in brains.

Our sinewy weaknesses bind us together,
As we ride out into the dark pit of impressions,
And cold calculated marble floors,
That look so intransigent to our needs,
Slide us so remarkably to our destination,
I push further for recognition.

I would like to take this voyage without fear.
Stare at the specks of intrigue brimming over the cup of our desire,
And bring this whole to a conclusion.
Were it not for those footholds, where would we be now?
Where would we be without the effervescent light of sadness
That lights the path we walk.

The calibrated resonance of staccato tones,
Trains itself to long bursts of sound,
And falls to deaf ears.

I would like to say 'it's okay now'
'let's go' but the fear still remains,
Lurking in the cracks and crevices of existence,
The voice holds me back,
Reminding me of childhood dreams,
Of wayward wanderings through broken churchyards,
And festering leaves heaped in spatula shapes.
Augmenting and diminishing like the passing of the seasons.

'Enough! Enough!' the whirling must stop,
The plot must unravel,
the blood must thicken,
the spine must be strong again.
Must, must, must.

In Eastern compactness I found the deity of the wind,
Calling purposefully into blindness,
It split into infinity and crushed diamond granules of light,
reverberating endlessly.

Now I gaze nonchalantly,
Plagued by demons,
Vultured and set adrift on some lonely plain.
I caught myself thinking again,
Calm
I must re-evaluate my strategy,
My enlightening effigy,
The key that always closes doors,
Chink, chink, chink,
In the silent hallway.

I want to express the feelings
That burn so vigorously without climax.
I want to torture their cool insides,
Fleshy, non-existent shadows of souls.

I am resigned to the loss,
The memory exists before the experience is over,
And the experience crawls towards the dark embers of memory,
Until everything is lost,
And we have nothing further to gain.

It was a cold evening when we set out into empty spaces,
Peeling our brains for conversation,
Standing in the cosmic rain.
I held you tightly,