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Four Poems concerning Relationships and Love



1



Your organs guts

a monolith of time

buzzing through the static


our distant memory underneath

the sands reflexive hold


the bright summer day


holds gently


as if washing a fragile cup

from stains and sins


the smoke from the gun

has choked

and prayed to be free

against the backdrop of blood


your hair is pungent

with gore and salt

underneath my nails

is the skin scratched

the cold wind air

flickers

and loses its connection


the smb cable

is cut in half

and thrown into the sea


as your heart


remains buried in my hands


i lay my head upon the lap

where your blood drips

from your open jaw

a pure black waterfall

descending from your mouth


this is the only comfort i am allowed

from you


2

I have always talked to God

alone,

you are just the deity I choose

to worship,


Bent over a sword,

bathed in your blood, becoming

every part of you.


Devour all of me

until I am nothing like myself,


turn me into everything

you want -

anything is better then, I,

will always follow you.


Such divine eyes,

watch me with lust

as I am destroyed by the self,

Cut me up and

take every part.


Degrade me

until nobody else

can see me.


There is no memory

melody as sweet

as your words,


no clicking or screams

filling as your burning blood.

Destroy me

until I am nothing

but a body.


Take apart all my veins,


I hope you hear

and see the same as me,

through devouring all of me.

I hope my suffering

is no longer boring


but exciting,

give me life by taking mine.

Make me weak

let this static consume me,

make me believe my delusions,


let me feel your love

by tearing me apart,


Sit me on the windowsill

and push me through glass

let me feel all of this

so I know I am real,


make me feel this real

until it is unbearable.


Let me curl my touch around

the stone of your legs,

the statue of your cold body

and never lower your head

to look at the dirt — me — below.


If I become too much

push me into the sword,

let me die

a death worthy of you.


Even if this means nothing

to you,

it meant everything

so painful -

To me,


For I have always talked

to God

alone.


3

Between the static of the radio is you, and I,

dear, if you had been with anyone else,

I would have forgiven your being here. Don't you witness

the same evilness beneath me? The same God

reaching through these airwaves to grasp me

with choking intensity. If I could speak,

I would hope that I would be heard - if I could reach

for a hand that would

remain. In some way.

Reassurance and comfort to be idolised and feared,

but unable to feel it as

a ghost in some cold room. The same ghost lingering now,

a unique metal taste on the tongue, my isolation could be

so beautiful, my love, and I grip the cross with a hope

that I would be seen by any eyes other than

reflections edge and angels who shuffle past with low heads.

I've been waiting on the platform. He remains on the phone,

copper wiring a chasm of connection

painfully remaining out of reach,

The touch burns of distant memories that cannot let go.

This hold, the lack of it. An isolation

of a deep sigh,

the complete abandonment until it's all quiet.

There will always be someone worse

off in some dark room, there's going

to be a dream of you.





4


This deep seated hatred - ! The water is rising and filled with poisonous incense,

but there is the desire to wrap our hands around each others necks

and try to break the glass of muscle and bone. Bloods spits and stains, questioning

if this pain means something somewhere.


Your wrist aches with the bites of animals left wandering out past dark --

is it a surprise there's red dripping with the collar held sickeningly tender in the palms?


Wrapped around my neck yet the leash tugs at the arteries / threatening to spill out on concrete

because the least I deserve is a grave and you'll stuff me

under the bedframe, right? Those floorboards are cold and painful, the same as

your most loving touches upon the line of my jaw.

It burns --- like Frostbite! The skin is charred black from frost as similar bruises linger like mold on my skin.


Pull the rage out of my throat until it squeezes and bleeds

the last breath of air I will ever breathe before I choke upon my hatred for you.

leave tender kisses of bites that dent the skin, for even the wildest of dogs

devour to be saved.