Surrounded By A Kaleidoscopic Miasma

I used to think you were a smart man

now I’m not so sure

in fact

I think you told us several times

when I was younger

that you were anything but

you scared me too much to test that

I hope the people who live in our old house

look at the dent in the freezer

that you nearly broke your foot making

because you wished you could have done

it to me instead

and wonder how it got there

and soon enough they will discover

the lines I scratched into the wood

into the walls

little traces of anger

it fills every support beam,

every wall,

every floorboard like rot

spreading

consuming

devouring

To be loved means to be consumed. To love means to radiate with inexhaustible light. To be loved is to pass away, to love is to endure.

—Rainer Maria

And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape

I am not a girl,

but rather a boy in the way

that I am burdened a daughter.

disappointingly so.

Roses, Vincent Van Gogh, 1889

I know he loves me because he's breathing the same air as me, if he didn't love me, he wouldn't be breathing.

How to Save Your Own Life, Erica Jong

we mourn the empirical fastenings

of those who came before

most now dead and buried in swill;

beheaded

as they had their time, so shall I

as they loved, so shall I

as they died in a thousand ways,

fractals spinning through space

through the human mind

eternally soaring in mist and

touching heaven for but a moment

before all, all is lost

and down they fall into the black

window of obscurity;

so shall I.

when you killed me, did god see?

did he look down from his opulence

did he see, in his glory

the death of a child

at the hands of the father

i think he did see

and in my eyes he remembered

when he looked away

at the death of his son

and turned a blind eye to my suffering

Communion

And when I place the body of Christ underneath my tongue, when He dissolves like fine sand, like sweet honey. and when I gasp, when my pupils dilate, as I glance at His heaven, 

Will you seethe? Will you lurch forward, claws digging into my shoulder blades, ripping out the muscle to lay flaccid on my back? Will you remember our nights, reach down to my Achilles tendon, and tear it? Will you force me on my knees, and not allow me to fly away? Will you grasp my two hands in your larger ones, crush my palms together, and will you beg for my forgiveness? And once you have forced me into loyalty, will the blood wash from our hands?