the monster exists
some deep thing
buried in my heart
an early lesson
of pain.
I hurt to define it
hard to exist
it squanders the love
around us into colorless abyss.
I, dare, not, whisper, its name.
Eradicate the pattern,
I worry it persists,
driven too much by our pain.
Not something pretty,
reliant oxygen,
call me the wrong one,
tell me whats right,
I knew in some instant
some total collective endeavour
i can sleep soundly
in my back pocket
the lost forgotten notes
bestiary for the heart.
think of the axe,
As it tears through a log,
Shattering the core
Of hundreds of years
Broken bare splintered
Ready to burn.
Iron steel
Dense matter
Forged in flames
Made from the heart
Of the tree
As it had died
Buried in time
Unearthed to repeat
All this making / unmaking.
What does it mean?
What secrets does the process
reveal,
What lonely atoms
Lost souls roaming the
Idea deterministic reality machine.
cute cute
so much sweater
cute. That fire fit,
with clawy nails so friggin cute
savage total soul inspiring
mad distracting,
cute.
