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A bottomless breeze breaks the blanket
Of tension typifying the turgid
World we welcome with wonder and a wild
Fear of a fateful strain toward feral life.</p>
<p>A speckle of dust or some form of star
Dances on the stage like a mystic of storm
The fire builds as a score of doves settles
Underneath the emblazoned light which yields
To no insecure form of darkness
The score seems to settle into a single
Sensation of emotion that bulges under
The growing star in red and blue and green
All vibrant colors that seem to sparkle my heart
As they paint magical images with subservient white
A sword from a shapeless hand strikes the star
As a silent scream of suffocation explodes
Over the beautiful benignant light forming
Fiery chaos in my heart as the stage incinerates
In a rupture of human emotion and Judgment
For which only time could be blamed.</p>
<p>The beautiful colors and chaos of the fires of death
Fade into nothingness as a girl with hair
Made golden by the sun and eyes blue
From the formless and shiftless sea
Smoothly marks her sleeve with a pencil
And lifts her perfect toes off the imperfect ground
As they work in flawless unison to bring her
Out of the sticky sand that sooths disaster
The girl skips along an unformed path and shows
A marking of a sparkling star to a man behind a counter
Who smoothly and mindlessly tosses an instrument
Of survival as the girl lifts it to her mouth and sips.</p>
<p>The girl and the stand fade into nothingness
A living silver letter approaches from the black distance
As a train of undistinguishable letters follow in some
Form of Carnival-like extravaganza
Once the letters are legible they dance like
Specks of dust about the screen as a voice reads
Them to his illiterate audience and my heart races
For the beauty of the words as they escape the darkness
Is captivating.</p>
<p>Why He Died</p>
<p>They asked me whether or not I knew why he died.
I couldnt answer them then. I didnt know why
But I knew how. Hell, I should have known how as I
Was the one that killed him. And to that I hold pride
Beyond which I cant seem to see anything
Except a tire rolling down a hill alone
Away from anything except the great unknown.
But they say that in Sheol they are battling
For my heart. I say that it is already lost
To the black blaze that becomes me so very well.
The Day Star, son of Dawn, I should join you in hell.
But first answer me something will you? With what cost
Must I extend upon myself to disavow flowers
That from my rotting body shall grow and become
My eternity? I desire no such blossom
And I will hope you take your sweet time to answer
For it seems as though you can do nothing but stare
And wait for something to be done with me. Hurry,
I am getting tired of watching my jury.
Unless it is in your mind that I murdered fair
</p>
<p>I told them I was the architect of the act,
And was escorted into one of their machines
Which stunk of putrid filth that viciously demeans
The eloquence of the act, that I cant seem to enact
Within the confines of my tired mind. It fell
There! It fell! The tire toppled to the firm ground
As I remembered him whose head was in a mound
The machine wobbled as I recalled how it fell.
Brown eyes and hair, lightened skin, jagged fingers, he
Approached me while holding his weary arms together.
He was singing: And when the night is new, Ill be
Hey, there. I gather youre a shoo-in for an adventure?
Breathe into the air and see that it doesnt stick.
Good. Now listen to the beat of your heart. Hear it?
Feel mine. His heart was pounding as he lit
A match and rubbed it against my finest fabric.</p>
<p>He whispered to me a phrase I had heard before:
The world is an enigma, a harmless enigma
That is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it
Kill me
For I am a victim of my villainy
And you must
A cell tingled in the back of my mind as it
Slithered through my brain, swam through my bloodstream,
Managed its way to my hand, which felt an extreme
Sense of murder as it folded over his faces pit
</p>
<p>But why did I kill him, they ask me? Why would I?
I dont know
All I know is that the morning sun
Launches itself over my soul, yet the one
I killed had his will done as he who art in heaven
But what was his will to guide to whatever his mind decides
And not implore the nature of man to live and live and live
Avoiding that which becomes us all to die and die and die
Where Lucifers struggle rests in the knowing of both natures
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