Departure (washed off in the rain)
She would always comment on my eyes and the words i didn’t have to say, they were written carefully and subtly across the bridge of my face. The two circling amber globes with black holes ranging wide then infinitesimally small like some crazed yellow mad mans last look before falling to his fate. Sometimes i wondered if she ever saw the dark violence that was left circling the stem of my brain, like many small birds flying in swirling pattern afraid of some unseen raptor on the wind. It flowed through my veins when dormant stemming out like roots when it became to much contain, i felt its teeth turn my arteries black, as my muscles writhed in unsubstantiated, paranormal pain… some ghost i’ve kept so far hidden away the other half,out of fear, terror, the darkness to my dappled sunlight days. Like all the world was somehow quieter, somehow shrouded around me in a haze. So unbalanced i’d become with each passive slowly leaching day. I’ve let my cancer and my calling, become warped and twisted, their ideas growing gnarled, clawed hands. the white wolf weakened, she let her soul pour from my split skin and broken spirit like melting tundra ice or a mountainside in the rain. Its funny how her strength fades, though i feed her hearts and souls alike every single day; the other dog of war… black as the space between stars, has been siphoning off my pain and poisoning my spine with whispers of power and hatred boiling underneath his tattered shaggy coat. I found my unfed bane had grown strong on the scraps i had forgotten to throw away. And from the remnants and and bones he built stock and gain and he drooled his poison hidden by the shade and iron vessel-cage. I guess this was before i saw the real difference between right wrong, the choices on how to deal with loss and pain, the vision he was setting forth a trickle down my cortex sliding through spinal cord and heading out like an army in small electric and pulsing waves. He’s been building scaffold in his image, effigies carved amongst the corpse of her and using things better left rotting in the rain. The river ran dark with mud and soot, then red… never to be clear again. Resurrecting demons long thought conquered from it’s writhing icy depths; rising from the permafrost bellow, monsters of men, shapeless, nameless predators to make her howl in vain. this woman watching me through the window, i wonder if the pain shows? Was it contorted on my face now? i wonder if it can be seen when i swallow this cancer like splinters in my veins and use its properties to build something for the wrong reason. To build a hole of hate, and call it home. I wonder if they will look at me like this woman standing through the looking glass, racked with fascination and revulsion. she said when i fucked her, crossed her name out and dragged it in the rain, that it was like i became someone else and in my eyes… she saw them light up, flicker on and off in sequence, in what she didn’t know to be a predatory gaze, i desired flesh and delivered pain. she said said i was a different man, i laughed because i cannot describe myself as human, and she liked the ‘man’ she fucked but somehow the me she knew was not able to hold the same amount of sway. sheep fall victim to the rouse, and Stockholm syndrome is just excessive need. i’ve been someone else for too long now. I’ve hid myself in pious vestments for so long i’ve forgotten the creature lurking just beneath bearing yellowed claws and fangs. Like something from your child bed side nightmares i crawled out from under and stood towering over… I never once loved you, you should have read it quietly on my face the way i’ve known you to, before i my teeth snapped at your flesh, chewing limb by limb, you should have seen a cold heart billowing an echo of its true self; the sails loosing through my golden tunnels racing through the blood stream like black tar heroine its needle spiking in my veins like the kick of a 12 gauge in your brain. When i felt her essence leaving me, leaving her… i broke her down to small remains and built a cage of bones around my hate to flex and breathe, not trap this horror in so tight to the smoke that i’m breathing… i scrapped her clean and mixed the meal with ceramic mud and built a bridge of boney bricks leading forward through the darkness, all that will remain, cold and true i spanned them strut by strut and spoked a wheel. I became an island of half built bridges drifting north… drifting home. far away from here. Up the fjords… tell Skoll I’m coming home.
- the trouble with me going to slam in boston is that everyone is all either about problems and sadness or love, or about empowerment or the lack of such, and everything that comes out of my mouth is devoid of love of any-sort. What i have to say isn't kind or beautiful. An outcast in my community of artists. It's a moving shadow on the wall that isn't being cast by anything visible.
- you're not a wolf, you're just prey.