Pick up, fear.
Pick up and come here.
Pick the pace up a gear, clearly I’m in it but uncommitted, long as you live I fear for thee, commit my suicide for me.
For I can’t unrationalize thy passionate cries, and fore the knife takes arms against life, against the harm I had, my mind tells me “life really isn’t bad.”
And a trickling inkling whets the appetite in me, wets the clouds of my treasured irrationality which I would once open my dry mouth for on midsummer nights walking home from hell, your fire can’t cool me only let us see eye to eye so I save cold sweat for sunset, don’t be blue little yellow, just grow and grow soon you’ll be big enough to swallow me and my hunger for thee—why, because how I hunger for thee.
Because? The cause can never be, there is no b-cause, just a-cause.
Just a cause to cause harm clawing at my arm.
A just cause to cause harm, come dawn I’ll be disarmed.
You recite your words to me, emphatically robotically,
None resonate as imperfectly than those… Three. Little. Words.
Little did I know how not you were in love with me, of misery love is a fee I paid without the salary I probably should have received for all the hours I spent with thee. But with spring overhead, my world underhand, you overheard my confession, learned your lesson, rendered frozen our history, and your cold bloodseas—the season will it still let us sweat or kiss?
I can live, but who can love, at a time like this?
You bought me so you know bout me? Not necessarily, you oughta resell me, so you can see me in a vitrine, a pathetic scene to the has-beens, the untrue, except the few, to paupers a virtue.
And wait I will till the sun’s overhill, that golden morning minute, and dawns the day of the infinite—by promise of the shrilling cock, my spirit here nor there, when the living shadow of my corpse will rock upon the un-rocking chair and all living things far and wide will see it’s a beautiful day to die. You only let me look up to you but left love up to me, so love left my body, left death a vacancy, a lovely home from which to see, the best vacation is eternity.
Like a winter orchard in your eyes, like the devil without disguise, like a celebrity seen in the same shirt twice—suddenly you lost your luster, and ran away upon lust’s thin ice. I spy you on your thousandth floor, or is that a thousandth star? Distant lights burn blue this night—all that brings me down is doused in ultramarine life, and heavy hearted I start to sink on my day of departure.
In your hands, the float you don’t throw—you love to see me go, you hate me when I go.
There is a pace a walk a gait where no red lights can make you wait. But now that I found it, I’m coming in a cab—I’m Ahab, limping legless to you. It came down to the deep blue, because it was up to you.
I’m surrounded by sand, alone in a desert land, where to understand is never to cry and sunrises are but one before you die. Helios, who’s circling whom? Let’s not play freeze tag with our doom, for I get dizzy when it’s noon, trying to outrun the rainbow sun. Standing ‘bove the short shadow of love, my visage upon the ground a mirage I had found but an ankle-deep oasis whose shallow love is this? My thirst will take me to desert planets looking for lost lovers, but best friends I’ll discover—ghosts past the end of my nose, and I’ll have gone nowhere.
The rainbow sheds its purples, deserted once more, I can restart going in circles.
High noon, ten years after dawn, finds me dizzy under a blonde sun, chasing my tail restlessly and the emptiness behind me—hindsight binds me to the small little satellite, Ouroboros blinds me with a brilliant borealis—the lightness of being belting asteroidal belligerence, to retain my innocence I had the sense to buy the best day and year to erase, the year Monica Vitti won an Oscar for best squirm out of an embrace.
Up here in space you’re smaller than I and though I may burn I’ll not turn.
The furthest point in the universe is the back of your headache, say the wisemen, and asteroids the perfect aspirin.
Autumn cumuli accumulate underskin, a storm coming in. Your swollen lips remained unkissed, and you feigned an eclipse, with a flick of the wrist, lest you speak unwisely there’s no way you’ll surprise me. With a straight face you said you wanted more curves—I could care less, let him caress your continents, your tides will make him sweat, its wet and tidal accidents saturate your stratosphere—beneath your atmosphere and through the haze I now see nothing save skybound trains, our avventura couldn’t cure a case of bottled rain, I could be no surer that your lightning struck my heart in vain.
Keep your curves to yourself, I wanted to be moved with words of longing, though this phone line is but a fathom long, sometimes I feel like downtown is drowning.
With the patience only your father has I stood by till all was a go for the blast. But waiting for you time flew. Death’s an early curfew, to stand beside you. Our twelfth unrushed hour dawns this morning, don’t blush your true colors are coming—I only hope we don’t make brown, may you see stars when you fall asleep uptown.
Behind closed eyes I know you see me don’t you flee me till I free you genie—of you and me was writ much mythology but through the obscurity, three time three is still a syzygy.
The day you committed suicide my favorite work of art was hung—
Untitled, beside blackness, above, beneath, and among.
This solstice I fell in love with space, to myself and no one else. Helios, exchange your poker face, can I embrace my father soon? Be me noon, don’t moon me, spin away with me higher still and brilliantly but within maybe,
I should exit and follow your apex, better than yellow brick your arc asymptotically accommodates all nine of them, and lonesome Luna me I perform invisibly my orbit with starstricken lunacy.
When love revolves but not one inch closer, lightless remains my distance to her, dark as the night we last big-banged, her and I, in those billion-year skies—gravitated circumnavigated by your starry Circe eyes, all nine pairs, I realize.
Pluto she visits our universe.
Pluto she visits our planet earth.
Pluto she visits our loneliness.
Pluto she visits our nearsightedness.
Pluto she visits our childhood.
Pluto she visits our neighborhood.
Pluto she visits our father our sun.
Pluto she visits our lives but once.
Pluto, I proved a planet with love.