Insecticide #28

Sulphuric acid, in context,
creates a meme of intelligent art,
and in my wailing and my waning and my waxing heart,
I strip myself bare like Frank.

Only mine is a more corrupted gesture.

Ana,
what will we do now, with this irreconcilable rift?

It is not in chains,
my heart,
not chained to a lover.

I am free,
but feeding
off her love’s givings.

Now the tree is bare,
like my wound,
sap extracted,
and withered,
and dead.

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Sulphuric acid, in context,
creates a meme of intelligent art,
and in my wailing and my waning and my waxing heart,
I strip myself bare like Frank.

Only mine is a more corrupted gesture.

Ana,
what will we do now, with this irreconcilable rift?

It is not in chains,
my heart,
not chained to a lover.

I am free,
but feeding
off her love’s givings.

Now the tree is bare,
like my wound,
sap extracted,
and withered,
and dead.

Insecticide #27

Swallow these words,
let them shatter as they drop
from an overflowing cup
of speech; and swallow
these impurities, to make them go away.

I will not
obsess. I will not,
guess what goes through your attentive consciousness.

Italian speech permeates my audible experience;
and when I purge myself of tears,
it is your face I beg for.

It is the loving grasp
of your hand in mine,
it is a solid and tangible love
I miss.

Not these drawn out speeches,
exchanges of words and tongues,
meaning essentially nothing.

Hard, factual love,
that you once offered me.

Swallow these words,
let them shatter as they drop
from an overflowing cup
of speech; and swallow
these impurities, to make them go away.

I will not
obsess. I will not,
guess what goes through your attentive consciousness.

Italian speech permeates my audible experience;
and when I purge myself of tears,
it is your face I beg for.

It is the loving grasp
of your hand in mine,
it is a solid and tangible love
I miss.

Not these drawn out speeches,
exchanges of words and tongues,
meaning essentially nothing.

Hard, factual love,
that you once offered me.

Insecticide #26

Transfiguratively I promoted celibacy & enthusiasm,
I gave you the swamp water you had asked me for,
when isolation had your tongue.

Fluidity of speech is not equivalent
to fluidity of thought;

With intent, I love you.
But I won’t succumb to your demands.

File, order, place into jars with colored caps
and masking tape,

So many reasons to communicate with you this way,
although I cannot see you reading all my dreams
and thoughts
and masochisms.

You gouged my heart,
pried apart the scab wound from its flesh adhesive.
Then you fail to understand why I am this way with you,

Do you have no compassion;
are you so self-
absorbed that
you can’t see?

Transfiguratively I promoted celibacy & enthusiasm,
I gave you the swamp water you had asked me for,
when isolation had your tongue.

Fluidity of speech is not equivalent
to fluidity of thought;

With intent, I love you.
But I won’t succumb to your demands.

File, order, place into jars with colored caps
and masking tape,

So many reasons to communicate with you this way,
although I cannot see you reading all my dreams
and thoughts
and masochisms.

You gouged my heart,
pried apart the scab wound from its flesh adhesive.
Then you fail to understand why I am this way with you,

Do you have no compassion;
are you so self-
absorbed that
you can’t see?

Insecticide #25

Restrain the tongue, my love;
let a little wisp of words
decorate the blank spaces in your mind;

Travel through time and within
the instantaneous array of God.

Welcome home,

No use for vacancies; be warned,
the rattling snake will find you,
and pin you to your mistakes.

So seek the intelligence, memory, and will,
to stifle all non-interactions with God.

Decorate the blank spaces in your mind,
with sophisticated concepts of time and light.

Restrain the tongue, my love;
let a little wisp of words
decorate the blank spaces in your mind;

Travel through time and within
the instantaneous array of God.

Welcome home,

No use for vacancies; be warned,
the rattling snake will find you,
and pin you to your mistakes.

So seek the intelligence, memory, and will,
to stifle all non-interactions with God.

Decorate the blank spaces in your mind,
with sophisticated concepts of time and light.

Insecticide #24

I found myself alone,
in an echo chamber,
all alone,
howling at her mirage,
hoping for her to

Offer me her heart,
once more,
before
the death of me.

I contemplated suicide,
sacricide,
Abilify
could not constrain my appetite for death.

In a momentary glance I saw
the openness
of everything she ever loved
about me.

For this split second’s time,
eternity scraped by and I could feel
the hand of God
around my self.

I found myself alone,
in an echo chamber,
all alone,
howling at her mirage,
hoping for her to

Offer me her heart,
once more,
before
the death of me.

I contemplated suicide,
sacricide,
Abilify
could not constrain my appetite for death.

In a momentary glance I saw
the openness
of everything she ever loved
about me.

For this split second’s time,
eternity scraped by and I could feel
the hand of God
around my self.

Insecticide #23

Tallied; but not torn, not isolated.

With dampened iconographic caricatures,
blistering out through the morning light;
we gave angels beds; to lay their feet.

Up high,
between breaths of sky,
and gusts,

And crying eyes,
and dust,

We will walk,
through the garden,
to meet our maker.

Tallied; but not torn, not isolated.

With dampened iconographic caricatures,
blistering out through the morning light;
we gave angels beds; to lay their feet.

Up high,
between breaths of sky,
and gusts,

And crying eyes,
and dust,

We will walk,
through the garden,
to meet our maker.

Insecticide #22

Tied; but not blind, not eviscerated.

And the calculations we had made
while shooting stars with our laser cannon
proclaiming Kierkegaard’s last stand.

The white noise dissipates into the East,
where the wise men traveled from,
on that blanket night that had a never ending moon
to shine.

But you won’t hold my hand,
and say to me,
you love me.

And right now,
that’s all I want.

Someone to seize the four winds for me,
to rebuke the sands’ few last drops within the glass.

Tied; but not blind, not eviscerated.

And the calculations we had made
while shooting stars with our laser cannon
proclaiming Kierkegaard’s last stand.

The white noise dissipates into the East,
where the wise men traveled from,
on that blanket night that had a never ending moon
to shine.

But you won’t hold my hand,
and say to me,
you love me.

And right now,
that’s all I want.

Someone to seize the four winds for me,
to rebuke the sands’ few last drops within the glass.