Wednesday, June 16, 2010

june 16 2010

to be in love with death
death as fragments of virtual
fantasy retroactive
and spelling out a murmur
don't we all know that what loves
comes to us twice, once
in our pain, and another
through the laughing
annointance of day to night, night
to day, and in between
we are lost, alone
uprooted, we fathom ourselves
beginners of some virtual oath
and crave a skeptical light to worship
our plugged up souls.

whatever gives
whatever gives
you already know the rest
of the equation
but take it away
take it away
be left alone in your heart
be alone and still
wide open and free
let a little voice
wind a door or trail
through screaming hills
once we go back
we can never go forward
but once we begin to
want, there exists nothing
that will ever again touch us.


first, the pain of living.
then, the remorse of others death.
and then, the hero of our own end of life.
once it comes, a blissful voice, we trill
a note along the sorrow of clouds
again and again our hello
screams to the void
and emptiness follows
and virtual truths impose themselves
on your fragmented, collected
body.

what shame we have
in fleeing or wanting death
death cannot overtake us
without our consent
we like to tell ourselves
well death has already come
to your door and plugged
up its ear to listen to you breathing
yes death has already made you a friend
when will you say hello back to him?

we unite
in our world
with faces full of hatred
and noises that pollute battered silence
and then again we might take a turn
reaching out
there might be an arm
something solid to grasp
or a picture
a photo to remind you
how to nestle in the space of life
and to live is to run away
to run away breathing your words
internally to emptiness
and to always collect spaces
like they were yours, because
they were, mine and nobody's.

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