the ever-present pull, the string the thread the rope that binds that gives that keeps us in a freedom of bondage. the gift the curse the fates the gods the infinite jest is eternally on us, trapped in this circle, this maze, this never-ending piece of slice of
paradise
the garden expanded, under oceans, past lovers, hovering over and around those embracing in the passion of hate. rebellious angels, immortal mortals, demons untold, unmeasured and unbridled, let loose among the poison blossoms and the perfect thorns.
words let loose, escaped from unpracticed lips; they are given to the world, a world where words are uncherished, unprotected; the garden cannot keep them in its clutches: they wander, they roam, into foreign lands, jungles of lies and crystalline deceptions. they are lost, they cannot be retrieved, taken back, their glass edges cutting as they fly and burrow. they damn and they save, they kill and they heal, they are
they are
they are
***
a rose, a black, red, sunset rose, twines up, up, toward man and its maker, its abandoned god, its forsaken goddess. a forgotten and beloved vine, crawling, crawling, away from the darkness and towards the oblivion. unbearable pleasure in paper-thin petals, each a lifetime of happiness and misery, a faithful reproduction of the pieces hated and reviled by all humanity. pieces untouched; pieces thrown to the side in favor of plastic and watches, entrapment and slavery. petals that cannot fall, cannot die, but cannot live untended, will wither without water of spirit, water of life, water of soul and sacrifice and painpainpain
a rose of the world. a rose of hell, a rose of heaven, a rose of the future and the past, outside the loop, broken free of the endless, created and existing without
time
No comments:
Post a Comment