Sunday, April 7, 2013

sippenhaft

They come in fragments
grains of onceuponatimes
falling as rain.  
That is shit.
Straight up bullshit.
Grains of onceuponatimes don't fall.
Everyone knows that.
They fly sideways
as you stand naked on a beach
arms outstretched
daring whatshisface to fuck with you.
Poseidon.  That's his face.  I forgot for a moment.
Yes.  I will dare him.
Bringitthefuck on, you crazy bearded motherfucker.
Anyway, back to the grains.
of onceuponatimes
Holy shit, they sting.
Unfinished heartsongs
the voiceless moments just before the scream 
flying sideways
stinging
beneath skin
under my feelers
they wiggle and settle
laughing when a word cannot be broached
when a thought refuses to be tricked
into becoming a happilyeverafter.
if the christ were a monster
he'd be a chimera
the genetic one, not the mythological one
tattooed with blaschko's lines
a twin within himself
forever shifting the rift
between what is real
and what is you.
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4 comments:

  1. "if the christ were a monster
    he'd be a chimera
    the genetic one, not the mythological one"

    ...cool! ;)

    p.s. that's all I've got, I'm not yet sufficiently advanced to offer more comment, but I just wanted you to know that I thought you were cool to come up with such stuff

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  2. i love reading your posts. you have this way of mesmerizing me, it can be the entire post or sometimes, just a couple of lines or even a solitary word. you get me every time. it's like you're in my head sometimes.

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