Trauma/Birth

Everything slowed down
and each explosive moment ballooned out in all directions
and violent gestures took on a delicate grace
and pain was something more than pain
and people faded from immediate memory
and everything was so very fragile
and there was no looking back.

under the world
stunned breathless immobile
but not panicked,
the only thing worth fearing for its loss
stares sterilely, slightly to the side from any angle.

fresh-rotten and lobotomized-musing,
new dilated gaze open through destitution:
welcome back.

A beginning that starts over again,
hovering round like a given name,
calling back towards the original cleave.
This parting process, one set in motion,
drags a till back through the present
to lay one image over and over
outward further than the mind can place:
Stalks of cyclical torment
glaring through an utterly foreign laughter from within.

stoic submission to this beautifully blunting submersion,
peace before the wistful nausea sets in,

before the emergence once again--



Learning/New Body New Mind


not my fault it's not my
    fault it's not my fault it's not my fault it's not
my fault it's it's it's not my fault not my fault it's not my it's not my
    it's not my fault fault not my fault it's
not my fault not my fault it's not my fault it's not my fault it's not my will this...

not my fault it's not my it's not my it's not
    my fault not my fault it's not my fault it's not my fault it's not my fault my fault it's not
it's not not my fault not my fault not not it's it's not my fault my my not my fault it's not my
    fault it's not my fault it's not my fault it's not my fault it's not my fault
my fault my fault my fault fault fault fault fault it's not my fault will this...

        ...will this...

                        ...will this...

will this not my fault is not is not my fault my fault is not
    not my fault is not my fault it's not my fault
fault not my fault not my fault not my fault it's not my fault will this.



Waiting/Only Death Will Cure You

In false resignation like a tardy rescuer―
to stop nibbling my nails
for silence for the cure for someone else
to think about something else
for anyone else
to go outside to laugh again
for the future to look like it used to
to trust again to be totally blank
to stand motionless and stare stoically―
in powerless reserve.



Tattoo You/Tattoo Me


I want

I want
I
I want
I want
I want to cut you
I want
I want to cut you with
I want to cut you with something
something rusty
I want to cut you with something dull and rusty
slowly
I want to cut you slowly with something dull and rusty
watching you bleed
watching you see yourself bleed
I want to watch you see yourself
I want to watch the fear in your eyes when you see inside of yourself
I won't let you scream
I want to watch your fear balloon when you find out what it feels like
to have your scream taken away from you
something that you always took for granted
something that always gave you comfort
something that reassures you of your soul
I want you to feel that
I want you to feel it gone
I want you to feel me make it gone
I
I want
I want
I want
I want you
I want you tied up and whimpering
I want to cut you somewhere
somewhere permanent
not a battle scar
somewhere that will leave you never the same
I want to tattoo my name onto your body
I want my ghost to walk through all of your mundane moments
I want you to spend your old age in a state of acquiescence to my ever-presence
speculating on what you might have lost
lonely and barren
I wish that I never met you
if only
if only
happenings ground us
we don't choose them its the other way around
if only
I wish I had another way
I never asked you to be a part of my everyday
and I'm fucking sick of you
I want something
I want something more
I don't want to shave these happenings from myself
and why should I?
Why should I diminish myself in service of avoidance?
No, I will build on top of these fundaments that chose me
they will be made my materials
obey my aspirations
I want something to attach to them
to stake claim to them
to rob them from you
I want something that can do that
that has the weight to do that
I want something that will tip this whole fucking operation
you fuck me no longer
it fucks this whole antecedental bedrock
I want something that can transform me by transforming you
and you will be mine alone
no more operations on other peoples lives
in claiming you I will spare them the wishing for new wishes
in your becoming mine your propogating will be silenced
my claim on you will be my claim to resolute resilience
your bending to my new power founded on you cultivated by me will be my proud etching of you
Never again
never again
never again
never never
never again
never again
never never never
never again
never
again again
never again
again again again again again again again again again again again again again again again



Consecration

To think the same thoughts without need of speech
and babble the same speech that you gave to me.
I give this to you,
I will this through a gesture extended into stagnation.
And now I look different.
And now you feel different:
your new wound, your new scar, my old images of you.
finally―
finally―
finally―
my turn to consecrate;
our union in the dusky wake of timeless moments separated by a branding iron.

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