Categories > Original > Poetry1 Reviews
"Hurry up, waiting for it to tremble and heave around me-"...........
spill the waiting reeking hallucinations in rapid waves
heights, walls of splintering silence crashing in , wreaking the descent of my desert-
no rest for the wounded-
in brilliant and shattering movements. wrenching my throat forward- naked, torched with blood-
mind cracked and corrupted by dying spectres
convulsed in red waves down my shoulders emerging raw and bleached for the sake of the mind,
bones rutted up to brush the dawn and absorb its color
then moved on to see- wavering stars, rising buttes, crouching brown gods of inestimable jutting cliffs, cipherous roots from which we drank so urgently pulling me over, wrenched through my nostrils
forays into the natural tirelessness of this puncturing delay, this waiting for chaos to break me open.
And now, utterly renewed, catatonic in Mephistophelian reds- rising in contempt from the ashes of my new, thick hate, writhing to recover the dirt of my skin and collect what death I can to me, so revived.
Pushing up to mark my new face in the dawn, rapt with failure to emerge, shed my skin to anoint the desert witness to my loss, and promise my sleep to this site of my aching, tumescent return, my imminent cataclysm in torn sinew-
glorified in the blood matting my hair, arming my jutting and irregular cheekbones, ugly with disproved silence
crawling, defiant, ripping my skin forward to gaze in that old ghost of my creation, spreading my hands in water to bathe my injured sense of imprisonment, learn the new signs of my arrival.