New journal.

“I wrote this walking home”

“Walking, I ramble
Give myself to a bramble;
He’d been waiting all day
For someone to hug.
The birds laugh and cheer my name
Articulating consonants and vowels.
Isn’t it just short of beautiful?
They’re singing me insane.
If birdsong is the anthem
Of my oncoming demise
Record it and sell it
Hear it with your eyes
Call it the loveliest,
Just the loveliest thing.
While it wakes me up
To who I really am (or was)
Treat it as your lullaby
Your glass mobile, chandalier
Let it soothe you to sleep
Either for now or forever,
Then dream of walking my path
In pants to shun the thorns
Try your best to press ignore
On the birdsong lullaby alarm.
Meanwhile I awake eternal
No blood in my form
Which is more like pipe smoke
Ever-spreading from its source
Retained in the atmosphere.
While you sleep, you choke
Everyone breathes me in,
I tickle lungs and make my rounds,
All you make is coughing sounds
While you follow the path I set
Without paying any of your debt
You might come to a hollow
Full of the everything the world owes you—
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
You gave us nothing
We shipped it back.
Now crawl inside it,
Vanish from your own dream world
You are not immortal
Neither is your memory.
Meanwhile I awake eternal
Scatter myself across every world,
My atoms prey upon fate,
The cosmos and I are one
Inseparable and all-deciding.
Walk the path I set,
Don’t leave one of your own,
Laugh at glass mobile chandeliers,
Sleep now or forever,
We will forget your name,
I haven’t one to forget.”

“Through wet-crimson windows I spy the joke,
Who sees himself important as scripture,
Take a Revelation: at best, satire,
Serious only for the foolish folk;
That he acts above himself makes it more
Apparent he’s his own allegory
Mocking his own enflamed boyish story,
A script the blind could read: his face, folklore.
He makes me feel acid burn my stomach
And I’d rather drink that than stand the joke
Tell itself anymore; I’d sooner choke
On my own bleeding ears, my scabs and muck.
     I struggle to find good in jokes like him,
     But not with you, filled with good to the brim.”