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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

Our afternoon clouds pour

through the watering can.


I tried to paint the waves

but they hardly looked like the ocean,

I saw it so vividly in my mind.

I wanted you to feel them,

the pink and blue water mixing

on your skin.


Or like any good stranger,

I offered to lay on the floor

beside you.

I hated how cold it was.


The floorboards, drained dark red

and bleeding black.


I had thoughts of me, above you,

sea salt air combing through

my hair,

hands covered in strange mixes of blue and pink around your neck,

unsure if I was harming you.


I'm scared of myself,

so why aren't you?


You spoke my name and for a moment,

I thought you were afraid.

That,

I hated the most.


Afterwards:


in my sane mind,

thinking of that ocean.

I see the warm green

mixing with deep blue.


How the pink is gone

and the light blue

a hallucination, a misremember

of the flicker from the suns gaze.


One day,

you'll feel that warmth

of those natural colours,

far from my strange thoughts

and worries. I'll save that

moment of a smile or maybe

your eyes,

flickering towards me.


Though I imagine more

of you,

the same I've thought before

but with silent intensity.


The grief at the loss of your lover

to vague insanity,

akin to the loss of a mother

who will never quite understand.


I wonder, quietly,

if I was normal, how would

love feel to me

and how easier it would be

to love me.

Though - I turn to you - you say

you'll always love me.


I have to spite myself

to begin to grapple

with the idea that I could be loved,

let alone - forever.





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.