Liability

i tried really hard to write a love poem and this is all i can spit out -- o well, here you go, loved one, have a poem about death and suffrage! true adoration!

O groom, your excrescent cheek

Your jaded jaw chides to me,

I moon it in my hands, over my wrists,

A violin strikes across titanium fruit

Flowing solid

Love me hollow

My hair spat out like Medusa's knives, wires of God,

Spiting you for ambrosia, lacking--

Monsieur solitude does not follow here

(In a jarring containment, I freed)

Venus's moon falls to the pew

Constricting the bow she turns against;

Scales pressed into the likelihood

Of my crescented-face,

They detain you of me, me of you.

I tried to screech to you of love but

The symphonic bolt chewed through

The virus in me, intensified it

Into the soil, and I floundered,

Floundered, roaming, to be no more.

The winter got caught in my throat,

The spectrum of your shore sought me out

Once wartless, once boundless, now bound,

Now rot. Rocked into the ground because

They testified of me.

Ladened in an orbit once pick-pocketed for your tribunal, I lay in wait,

Once it will be, soon it was

The future swears, fingers crossed;

School-girl promises meant less to me now they've aboded,

Abided, I cannot stomach them.

I offer my glands to them, silvered and erect,

Secreted by all my sufferance, the

Key-hole whimpers before them, all is lost,

Fluxed into the mighty abyss of the man-made

Condition futility.

Gnawing, suckling at my spine,

Piggies at my lobes, piercing the

Imprint of proof, Zeus has bred me with

Mortality, now I hold the open to all of everything,

Shatter me open, I call the torrent

Breaking against all of communication,

Sal-oo Frau, free me today, will you may,

The speckled blue touches land and I think

I have the cancer of it, an aptitude for disease,

It sticks to me like spit, scrounging for my organs

To saliva-secure an earthquake in church,

So the vicar falls to his knees, a man in wait,

Divinity uplifts his grace,

And the congregations flails, out of orbit,

Astronauts on soil, all this for oil!

Our tombstones pave their way across no-mans land,

They claim their place, they are righteous;

They forget of me and you and that

Our feet weren't always mould banana skins

Dulling the way to an enigma in the sky

Our names are not forfeited together, thunder-bolt, sea-salt,

No-one feels it more than I. It is Love pressing it's knuckles into

My vocal chord so I cannot prohibit it from

Likening me anymore to God. You pass in soulless squander,

I do not prohibit it.

I am eradicating our possibility from possibilities sake,

We have been etched into dismay's cheek

From the first tick, even tock does not want us together

If you can not limp to me my name,

I will not flex for you.

Monseigneur graved his way to my doomsday last night,

His papa had passed and his passion he had hoped to pursue

Into and within my own. Half into it, I called him my Herr,

And he turned away and put a pistol to his mouth;

The torrent strikes for the last time.

I plagued a foetus with my misery,

It stifled it's supply and the carrier fondled the idea

Of onwards, to fall downwards. I tried to tell you

(You, you, you) I was Horseman, lisp, lisp,

I carry death, and you carry us two,

I had a tomb-stone cheek. My name read,

Corpse gone dead. I reeked of the sting,

And my obituary cried out desperately, pleading.

I stifled my Death, my Benedict, and cradled it golden,

Hoarding you, elsewhere, anyone. 

Author's Note

opinions. i do not want scholar-ly criticism, that does not appeal to me and i do not wish to appeal to them. i wish to appeal to people, and to their opinions; negative, or positive. please give me them. i am so often hungered by it.