Here, There, Go.
So the Arctic broke and the Sahara stole its way down my throat, and my eyes leaked dust. I never saw the feeling you gave out, until it was barbed wire lacing up my sleeves in pretty freckles of red. How many secrets can I keep, in a tonal shift and a sotto voce, and a sleepless menagerie …
They’re all after the same thing in the end, lover.
Twist, turn, it’s still there, that rawness that makes me creep down the stairs and find that wicked line, that silver thing, that shine in the eye – but my guts aren’t open for purchase. I can stand and scream in silence and it won’t make eyes open, ears hear. Shameful times, hectic lines (crossed.)
I’m an echo in a space that shouldn’t exist.
It’s a beautifully brutal time. My heels bleed with the rush. Clap your hands say YEAH, it’s time …
And you’re out tonight, in the dusky light. It feels good to know. Silence is a mead I’ll find again and again. It salves the wound of too many words, in a world where articulation hasn’t got a hope in hell.
Hell. Such a stupid word, turned inside out. He’s got wings to fill your mind with ice, no tears, no blood, only futile love.
Simmer down, pup. You’re only ever an anti-hero.
Swagger!
celenagaia 