love, everything touches my poetry. x
how much can we want before it becomes greed?
how deeply can we thirst before it becomes mania?
how completely can we fast before it becomes suicide?
we are the signs of an elusive God
entire generations, searching
for what exactly?
with all our strength, we fight
to retrace our steps back to immortality,
and fall even farther from grace
wreaking cosmic destruction
in attempts to make Gods of ourselves,
more of ourselves,
Gods of ourselves..
all this sky over our heads,
yet we want more.
how high can we reach before it becomes blasphemy?
day did not break with us
we reeked too much of ourselves
our prayers stained with saliva and blasphemy
and wanting too much salvation too quickly
and this is how we are
when the hurricane hits
when our ears clamour with nothing
but raving water.
just enraged water.
this is how we are
when we behold a flowing, soothing body
morph into something ferocious, unforgiving
when we realize how it can flush us out of the tiniest parts of ourselves
till they can no longer find us
in the crevices
that line our palms,
that dimple our navels,
that wrinkle our skin
until we are completely rinsed out
and there is no more us left in us
until our veins burst with diluted blood
until we are nothing. just bloated, floating existence.
until we are nothing. just raw, pulpy vacuum.
i would have preferred to remain as i was—
a brewing storm;
but a storm at least
brewing at least
alive, at least.
in the belly of the night
the moon found me
on the very edge of existence.
she pulled me gently into her soul
what does your body know
it takes a different kind of courage
to fall in love with how infinitely impossible
it is to understand everything.
to be at peace
with knowing that not all things
are meant to be known,
his eyes were always hollow when they kissed
his pupils, darkened, dilated,
pulsing with blackhole-like energy..
he was empty.
thirsting for any traces of God it could find
on her lips, at the back of her throat,
on her neck, her breasts,
in her navel..
he was deteriorating.
"and i have lots of myself to spare,"
she would purr.
he said she had an unearthly savour
that was so potent
it left spasms in him
that his brain could mistake for signs of life,
and that was good enough for him.
he always went back.
as for his crazed searches for God
on every inch,
every cranny in her body..
"don’t sstop. it feels sso goood,"
she would gasp.
that was all she cared for.
and collect into pools of silence
in the depression of your collar bones
waiting to seep into your throat
imbue all you will ever say
with all of me somehow
drench your voice, before it escapes you,
with presence of my lust