Lightning, rainbows, heaven

Fecal state the mattress
rots a virgin’s puerile fate
on ashen pallor a cellar door
is dashed into bits

    we are not made of lightning
    we are not made of any such thing
    our existence is not so virtuous
    this hour has come for thieves to take

and bloodied nose
drains floral patterns into storm drain
into street beaten back by rain
some teeth there make for quite the display

    i want to burn money
    turn god into gold
    race dragon fire as it burns
    a village to the ground

but hers is a scream i'd never heard
is magic, is death, is purged,
used, broken, abandoned, discarded,
…he got his fill

    matter is not made of lightning
    is not the fanatic’s calling
     is deeper than we know
    is the very edge of bleating
    rainbows lead to heaven.

Sysius, Rufus, and the vacant state

In the fit of my atmosphere
i had only just succumbed
to your intent
to destroy me

happily i would engage
you happily
set the stage
for my tragedy
enraged

i clamored
i climbed
i clung
to the divine
within
to drive away
a darker yet still
foreshortened
sin

i am Sysius
the caretaker of gardens
not our own

i am Rufus
moderater of games
long gone
dead

i am the desecrator of monuments
to the nearly immortal
and the spit in your face
after your gravest offense

i’m frightened
i’m delusional states
i’m encapsulated mythos
rhyming against rhyme
reasoning against reason
without either
i am vacant.

Conduit

Forward i have come
found parents of the under one
blamed regards to irreplaceable vices
chose to implement
what has never been done

now a view not determined
normal
her self-esteem taken
a certain mental
conduit maiden
hell

but i am not brazen
nor am i made of the same
mettle
my time is...
seems somehow different
less virtuous
more
contemptuous

a voice, an entity, travels
a fiber-optic pathway
to my doorstep
disappears
all at once
alone

but there is beauty in the silence
a vague fountain of life unspent

over there
a horse in slow motion
stops
looks at me
recognizes something
kneels
beckoning
through the haze
no sounds
just motion
moving as if by instinct
as if in sync with some
unseen force
moves forward
to initiate what has never been done.

Dwell

Rivers of sub-atomic
particles,
articulated syllables,
all misinterpreted
rituals,
i have forgone

sightless have i
undone the ties that
blind
forward my heart
to make relevant
a constructed emotion
i have blended
slight

a backwards glance
suggests there might
have been a chance,
a gathering of stars

but an ocean grows ever
deeper
where those particles collide
where i sit
at the foot
of purest creation
where place cannot derive
location
where location is
not fixed
where you,
as if in static silence,
dwell.

Guide

Still,
i have not died
quiet,
I can be your guide
for the time spent on selfish endeavors
had been set aside
some time ago

but your eyes,
speak truths yet unspoken
see not exponential threats
so broken go
my lies,
beautiful lies
with which to teach the way
to heaven
while green is the sound
of my heart breaking
is not the color of my soul aching
is not the blade of
your sharpest
bite

so there is distance in the
cool air tonight
but you are
still

and there is reluctance on
the fence for now
but i have not died
quiet.