An Advent of Sense

the sounds my brain makes underworld cacophony the clanging of brass bells and angry pipes on tunnel walls. to implore its quiet is to bring the beast from out its lair dragging chains on gravel road spitting razor phrase:                                           You could be so much better. But how uncaring,                how callous,                        how hateful to treat one's                                                own house. I've forgotten how to soothe.

I am full in the way of a dewdrop how she threatens to fling from her perch no contending with time who only will stop long enough for the briefest of search.

For every effort, it seems to me, there is another to keep it in line. As if to remind, you're not stronger than I, no more or less divine. Forces surge, passions ebb, delights swing to and fro'. Lateral decisions turn yeses into no's. A burning orb, we bumbling folk who try to build from connection but in our excite we burst the yolk and explode in different directions. Does the ivy not climb seeking sun, secret scions reaching new heights? His brother, the vine, hangs low from his home and covers his head until night.

I hold me up so clean and strong but let your touch lacerate me wounds from my insides out. A single pitch from high strung wire reverberate this plucked nerve entire symphonies bleeding from the site I've learned to tone it down. And I want it this burlap sack over my head breath control that I used to call affection. Deflate/inhale me until I am a slippery pile of veins more strings for you to play. That is what muses do, correct? Wrestle your demons offer our necks for the art of it. I wanted it a blade of sound to cut through the weight of what was not between us. My body is afraid of speaking.

I remember nights when my loneliness would not let me remember my own name When ticking clocks turned to rapping on doors melted into the sound of blood in a conch shell When even my blood stopped sounding I could tell from the knots in my back and legs, and feet When even the names of fresh faces I no longer repeat Mattered as much to me as the wine in my stomach Promise no sleep til forgetting.

Small cry in an otherwise quiet room. Quiet from the amount of pollution Hovering on sound waves. Quiet so loud you forget to hear it Just to cope. Consummate consumers Children of the greed breed. Naturalized globe: main course The natural world for leftovers. Food for thought.

Black holes you can't see it, only the movement around it, its effect a star's entire self collapsed into density unfathomable, heavy an unbelievable stretch and still this only theory mighty devourer, destroyer, creator, maker and taker of light sharpening wheel preparing the blade that will continue moving matter superheated sparks spinning out, spawning far-flung hoards chilled to fresh birth brightness a star in the east

I've been burning out. How do I reignite my flame? I remember how I was taught to build a fire... Oxygen, fuel, and care, he said Oxygen, fuel, and care... Oxygen as the breath of life Deep, appreciative respiration Recycling energy Release what doesn't feed you Bring in wisdom and growth. Fuel being things that the body consumes Or that consume the body Vigor and wellness in the physical world Satisfying the primal appetites A positive charge of chemicals. Building a fire takes time It calls for patience and vigilance Always tending to the flame Nurturing sparks into brilliant heat There is no spontaneous combustion. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oxygen is the primarily mental and metaphysical component Fuel is the bodily component Care is the temporal component You are part of everything Be in yourself Let go.

Triangle chickens can't see the pecking order their eyes are so small Purple means newness then flowers start their reaching playing with sunlight I wither with sighs my throat burns for sweet moisture there's work to be done Why still bow our heads if wind pushes us forward all truth is manmade So no soul above? how no twist in the system? still feels like questions Chickens have gone now wind is blowing them pen-ward I'm here with the dog Present is trying more important than dying but damn its hard I am weak with sick this is no time for fatigue I must honor it Where is harmony self-control and free I'm angsty again

It heals my heart to say hello The greetings clean out my wounds I am mending As you allow me to give you my love I was told it would take a tenderness Of such strength and vitality And persistence To bring me back to belief O, relief! To feel again Not as I was But a melancholic, grateful iteration I appreciate who you are You have shared your pain Our collective ghosts Tether me to you And I see your blue storm soul

We had sunny days in spring running down cobblestone streets looking at old houses sandwiched together like we were playing sardines we used to embrace by the ruins several months after I flew in  there was  there was you How did that turn into starless nights that I spend inside  eating dinner in front of the TV Checking email to remind me  that I’m not really alone nobody to embrace, it’s all ruined been several months since I flew in where are where are you when we live in ancient places we become ancient ourselves so much wiser, livelier, souls lifted higher but sometimes you have to reach rock bottom to find solid ground when I think about you I live in the earth

To whom it probably doesn't concern, I wanted to address this most recent news because it seems to me like you're kind of confused. As a preface, the topic is not  about you it's signed 'yours truly,' concerns what I need to do. When I decide to move on from this relationship b/c it is no longer feeding who I am and/or I have forgotten how to feed myself, You, like so many other men before you, have the gall to tell me that surely I must have committed some unspoken infidelitous act to be convinced that I have room to grow. Yes, it seems you think that my body, like clay molded by unscrupulous potters has been pulled in another direction, kneading me until I need them. Yes, please, be my guest blame my libido when I tell you I need to know that I can stand by myself. Like the only drive in my life that could influence me to leave you is a sexual one. No, my friend, I didn't need to dip my toe into the sea of empty relations to