𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓

Sweet marrow soaking up the paltry kisses of noon
High noon, shadows hide from this sun,
Jealously adores the skin and the cement
Like a lover pulling at heart strings through touches
Yet it falls and the night oscillates the soul
Into the mother, the womb of the microcosmos
Which we squint at, for gods in the stars, and demons
Or angels in the darkness to eviscerate tiresome day
That high sun- a terrible god, jealous god,
A man who cannot submit in the ambiguities of death
Or dreams, yet gives life through the vertical postures
in his march across the muscled clouds to create his
Arduous game of time-
Life as the gesticulation of his yearning strikes towards
Her eternal repose, and in my own, i lay in the grave dirt
Of the dark land, rinds of pomegranates gracefully strewn
To close my eyes and dream of her horrible face
Her horrible breast milk splashing out to nourish polymorphic eggs
Of strange shapes, three apex, two, four, six, asymmetrical,
Yet the Lord finds his way to ravage time back into me as a
Dull euphoria collapses endless multiplicities into one fate
Its a masochistic love, an inescapable rape, like the ancient promise of
The fall and the spring, forever recurring as long as this planet maintains that
Which is ‘alive’, possessed by Sun