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.