“Like any game, you will only enjoy Life if you know the rules”
– Me, experiencing random synaptic noise
Finger painting your back
I feel your scars; some are
healed but others still
bleeding,
Why am I the artist, your
creator at large, when our
time together is coming
to an crossing,
You deserve the touch of
gods, keeping the thread
of life from withering,
My love for you will
never die; but our time
as one is
ending
Major 2 Minor
admittingly of middle age // post-classical if you will // without a shining light for guidance // the dark ages grip tightens // new thoughts of hope will surface // as soon as you wake the god of summer // call her forth from her wicked slumber // to reset my age; to become a minor yet again
I Remember
Most of my days were filled with patterns, recurring images of every situation that had gone to pass; and triggered fear deep in my heart.
The darkness now accumulated; the filth beneath slowly rising to the surface; pale tan-less skin I exposed unwillingly, the stench surely tangible in my general proximity.
With time a vicious habit formed, not by choice of conscious act but rather from illness I declare; a statement you may so graciously reject. But of all the things I do remember, only memories of fear still linger.
black mirror
As I enter ever deeper into the black mirror // the doors close behind me // realisation striking; there is no going back // I am sameness; I am sickness // prolonging this careless whisper; futile prescription on repeat // I say “no” to a kingdom of dreams // with the mirror cracking I am left with only doubt // are the reflections real; is there sanity at heart
Binge
I’m on a binge
it’s 100 proof all the way
You see the haze surrounding me?
I’m on a binge
Mr Robot with scattered thoughts
I dream, I wake; corpses roam
I’m on a binge
Caprica, the early years
before the battle, fracking fear
I’m on a binge
on orphan black
I see her – everywhere