im feelin like king tut - tired of the number crunch; my education was my mummification coming up… they built the pyramids on new york streets, i would lift stonehenge with my feet, my bones bend when i think of defeat, yea my martyrdom… was out for stardom when I started up: until i saw the reality - buddha had my soul staring back at me…no mirrors, now seein the dearer clearer through rhythmic patterns, wandering saturn; does it matter? that matter cannot be created nor destroyed; the atoms are like envoys tellin messages of adam and eve, forbidden tree - leaf linens, primordial questions of livin, the decisions feel like incisions to my wisdom… should i give in?
i used to write on clear pages of a transparent love that i wore on my skin and always spoke of in each silence look, and yet it always amazes me that of all the people who had seen through every feeling i had, you were the blindest
alkaline smile, a metal that could not be detected the day i searched out for you on the beach, remembering only the smooth silver of your hair; foolishly, i thought a metal detector could lead me to you, and foolishly was i unaware that the supreme subtlety of your beauty, so soft and detailed, would go unnoticed by every human and mechanical eye, except for mine: that is the nature of you and me. and as for everyone else…well, if only they knew what they were missing
“i was there that frantic day
in the surgery room
where you gave birth
and like the husband I never was,
there i stood, ready to assist
your celestial newborns
that had grinned thousands of universes
into my heart…since then,
i’ve been uncontrollably wandering
the back labyrinths of your stunning
and now sitting, a ball of fire burning patches into my skin, i wonder how things would be had our love not been so hot, had i cooled it with soft whisperings, breezes of care to ease and repair all the loose ends… but as i try and sew these holes as one, i realize i hold a dull needle, the same one once found in that haystack, promised to be cherished, unlike any; so mad at myself, i’ve only widened these patches, the gap between us that i wish was only just the brand name of that shirt of skin, but nah;
you branded a stain that still burns like our love; had i cooled it, maybe i could bear the coldness you now show towards me.