I am so freaking human.  I want to die.  feelings are these animals.  rampaging.  words are these viruses.  ******* my brain.  from a crazy straw.  I can feel the pressure.  being swallowed by a snake. I can feel each curve.

I am so freaking human.  the planet is dying.  vomiting all these chemicals.  raining acids.  accidently making ****.  she is weak and confused.  unable to control.  even her base
survival instincts.

I am so freaking human.  she is telling me.  close my mouth.  I talk too much.  while saying nothing.  she is telling me.  give in to my two ears.  hear what is always around me.  stay still and silent.  she will tell me secrets.

I am so freaking human.  but today I will try.  to be still and silent.  I will try to listen.  to her.  but I am so freaking human.  and I must want to die.  why else would I keep living like this.

she called me
soft names
like the first name

like a dove
whispering love
songs

and I was
an angel
with unbreakable
wings

until
she left me

and I slowly
lost my little
mind

I fell to earth
with a thud
it was not far

to fall

but it felt
like a new
planet

a dry planet
without flowers

we must experiment

spend a lifetime
searching for a truth

even if it is small
and adds little
to the grand scheme

we must experiment

spend a lifetime
to see

if we truly belong
to each other

I do not want to fly

the earth is young
and soft and green

my legs are skinny
but strong

and I like to run

my wings
can lift me

if let them

but I choose
to use them

differently

to hold and
be held

energy I do not expend
eats me

unexpressed expressions
are so hungry

they smell my
every weak scent

like a pack
of rabid dogs

digging wet teeth
and disease
into me

I fight trying
to hold in
just one piece

that piece I
never want
you to see

tonight I will
try to sleep

counting
electrified
sheep

I am alone tonight
like most nights

the wind howls
changing into a wolf

I leave my house
to walk

just to walk

loose things move
through the street

trying to block me
or lead me

I end up
somewhere
dark and loud

the skinny ghosts dance
moving into and out of
each other

beginnings and
endings disappear

there are only
moments bleeding
into each other

she walks next
to me
close to me
against me

she is electric
not like lightning
or electrocution

more like static

the sparks that
communicate a
connection

the sparks that scare
without too much harm

at first

I think about
the people I love

more concepts
than flesh

like me

they are creatures
creating creatures

I trace his
twisted extensions

with my fingertips

furrowed brow
neck contorted
arms reaching
then disappearing

legs pressed
together concealing

toes up and
pointing leftward

he pressed his
hand to paper

never intending
to complete
himself

allowing me to
finish his thought

One man split into two, the halves greeted each other as if strangers.  “Hello, my name is Mind.”  “Good to meet you Mind, my name is Body.”  They were cordial but apprehensive as one who does not quite trust the other because of unfamiliarity.  They walked next to each but did not fit together as I would have suspected from two halves taken from one whole.  

I could hear her whisper, “Are you cured yet?”  I was still in a fog as she woke me from a very deep sleep to ask me that.  She was in a panic.  I could tell she had been crying for some time.  

I did not know who she was, I could only remember dreams, and nothing else from the life I must have led before.  The nonsense was the only thing that seemed to make sense.  

There must have been something wrong with me, or she wouldn’t have asked me that.  Was it body or mind I did not know? Did she think I was insane or dying?  

I answered, “Yes.”  I guess I am cured because I do not believe anything is wrong with me.

Each moment I awaken
there is darkness; neon lights
up the sky.

I walk between the drops of lead

into the grime.
It’s not my time.

Red faints in my lap.

There is certain violence
in her voice
when she whispers my name.

In stillness I pray.

The air longs for the coolness
of her breath.

Later that night,

I am alone in a cab
when it all backfires
and lightness ascends.

my words spread
in my head

a sea of weeds
that never believe

swallowing gods
and demons

digesting nothing
I am alone

we are small and
powerful

more than beings
we are

principles

hovering above
over and around

I am sound

wailing
gnashing
teeth

deep as
nails

pulsating
particles
penetrating
brains

collapsing
wall­s

she is light

thin
sharp
and angular

striking
bolts
of energy

hot waves
of explosions

only ever
momentarily
contained

released into
pain and
pleasure

together
we explode

creating senses

we give and
we take

life

with us
you come

to understand

money is not
everything

with us
you come

to understand

money is not
anything

cut bangs
brown

straight

like the edge
of the world

she is a
sudden storm

coming in
from the sea

cold and warm
consummating

soon after
their first
meeting

violence
oh so quiet

an explosion
of trust

a night of
silent
fireworks

am I deaf?

she is tiny
invading me
with

the intelligence
of an ant

following a path
invisible
to my
uneducated
eyes
ears
nose
and
throat

as day breaks
on the day
he promised
to me

there is this
yellow bird
whispering in my
ear

bright as if the sun
grew wings

he sings me a
song in
harmony

dark
like the space
before
expectations
meet
reality

I remember waiting
for him
to keep his promise

thinking about

the story they
told me
about the little boy
before me

he was born
to die

he didn’t know
this so he
struggled to live

he knew the value
of breath
they say he
took more
than he
was promised
more than what
was expected

is he better off
now
having struggled
not knowing

and I remember waiting
for him
to keep his promise

I thought
if I leave
the house
and wait
for him on
the curb

he will get here
sooner

and as day breaks
the other way
on the day
he promised
to me

the little yellow bird
whispers to me again

Entering an enclave;
an encased little city
in the sky.

I must appear the same
today as yesterday

blue suit, white stripes
a corporate tiger
black shoes, wing tips
an ostrich
because I cannot fly.

I smell the fragrance of the artificial;
emotions set in stone.

I brush against the texture of coats on
the wall, the building up of artifacts.

I can feel the artistry and the
attitudes of the painters

templates of the care taken on both
the good and bad days.

I hear a cough move quickly
through cubicles; a contagion,
a protest song.

If I stand still at the top for long enough
I can see the patterns of movement
beneath me.

I can see atoms dancing to the bumps
and bruises of a life lived in an enclave
in the sky
as if it is a choreography
as if they are living out a plan

but I know there is no plan
only reactions; being set in stone.

and with edge
there is the
danger of slipping

she speaks and

I listen to the
partial woman
on a stand

lifting herself
bending herself

trying to stand up
for the bird falling
from the nest

she tells me
there is no rejection here

she tells me damaged
is not the end

she tells there are faults
but no one is to blame

I close my eyes
and listen to her

tonight I want a
breakthrough

I have thin skin
so I can feel

I look north tonight
there are borders
to be crossed

I close my eyes
and listen

there is ripeness
in her words

the taste of black
cherry juice

Like a tall, thick tree
struck by lightning
I am shocked
at how quickly I fall
and how quiet
the forest can be
when I am alone

Despite feeling corroded
I did not dissolve
back into the earth

as I had wished.

Just as expired stars
the lights that have haunted me for so long,
disappeared.

I must have reached the outer span
of their rapt attention.

I just may be forgotten
and there is finally…

quiet..

I move, and for the first time,
I am aware of my movement.

I walk around this small space
to explore the edges of…

the walls are sweating
as if they have been working

my mind
is not yet embodied.

I live in darkness,
I am still a stranger to myself.

I touch myself
to feel human.

I touch the healing scar on my
shaved head.

I think
if I pick
at it
I can
free myself

But alas
I am the perfect workmanship
of my creator.

I cannot free myself.

I leave this womb.
I know I am separate from my creator.

I now know I am human.

I moved north
hoping the leaves
would fall;

changing reasons
for living again.

I met a ******* a lark
laughing at the trees.

She said “I’ve been
searching for you
sand man.”

She really meant sad
but she was too happy
to say that word.

She said, “I will wait
for the weight to fall from
your shoulders.

You will be my shiny, red balloon
I can ride to the
moon.”

I took off my overcoat.

the dragon is
without anger

it breathes
as any living creature

exhaling flames
without direction

it is unaware that
it lives within
a larger purpose

like cleaning the
floor of a forest
of the dead things

the things that will
not leave on their own

like the dead things
within us that
create a clutter and

refuse to disappear

sometimes we need
a dragon within us

to breathe without
anger or purpose

taking from us
those dead things
we don’t know

still exist

There is less of her today
than there was yesterday.

I can feel it when
I wrap my arms around her waist.
Her deepest breath
is shallow
as if trying to swim
in deep water.

When I say “I love only you”
she hears
“I could love you, if only…”

When I hold her hand
I dare not squeeze;
she feels enough pressure
just being.

Today my mind is in a dream state,
disconnected images come at me quickly;
emotions overtake me
transporting me
from anxiety to ecstasy
and back again
in a flash, in a violent dance
between two angry lovers
who want to hurt each other
in the most personal way.

I am feeling fully the chaos of a newborn’s brain.

Think about being lost
in the crowded streets
deep in the mist of human breath
at Times Square during New Year’s Eve.
You can only sense and absorb your surroundings
you are deprived of the ability
to express or influence
or to make any sense of anything.

Now you know me.

Now you know that
it is only when I expend all
my physical, my chemical energy
in all manner of unspoken words and phrases
when I color the white spaces
of these pages
with my dark matter
while my body remains
mostly stationary
that some of my stability can be regained.

It happens subtly
like the movement of the gold hands
of an antique watch against my wrist.

Oh sleep, sweet, sweet sleep;
why hast thou forsaken me?
You are the only angel in my hellish brain
telling me I am ok
I am ok.

this room is
in too deep

stuck in
thick layers
of sick

we live in a semi-circle
and I can’t move

dark thoughts
are snakes
swallowing
themselves

living on
without
a natural end

voices seem
disembodied
detached

meaning is
hard creating
pains

we pass them like
peppermint candy or gas
or kidney stones

I ask you questions
in hard and sudden bursts
to penetrate you

I want to reach the word
in the center of your soul

to unwind the snake
so it can rise within you

giving you the power to
release it once
and for all

I am in a creek
up to my knees

mud between my toes
holding me in place

sort of fishing

you are on the bank
on a blanket

your head on a soft pillow
a glass of wine within reach

sort of reading

you say something sort of funny
and I sort of laugh

I am alone
in this world
without depth

everything is a smooth rock
skidding along the surface

one, two, three times
creating small circles
that disappear quickly

having no sustained effect on anyone

I am alone
in this world
without connection

everything is a sudden pulse
spreading into the universe

one, two, three billion pulses
pinging against each other
then going off to another

having no sustained effect on anyone

I wake up hours before sunrise and stare at the silver stars
painted into the black ceiling of our bedroom.
They are now peeling, the falling sparkles  
covering my body;
creating a burning sensation
deep inside of me.

I have invested so much in space
exploration, computing the distance between life forms.
I notice our forms that once fit together
like Pangaea, are now drifting
between ever increasing expanses of blue.

Each night I play peek-a-***** into the abyss
alternately covering my eyes with the rapid movement of my mind;
skirting the topics of emptiness and happiness.

I sit on the edge, the outer edge, the very outer edge
of my bed
masquerading as the very outer edge of the universe
and I reach
for all that is larger than me, for all that is still
inside of me.

I stare into my hands, those tender uncalloused hands
that once held us together,
and watch as they float away.

the same day
as yesterday

we ask no
questions
of each other

moments
do not exist

memories
are imagined

progress is
a circle

is all this
beginning

or am I
at my end

all the stars
we see
are dead

they just
don’t know it

yet

Winter’s down
beneath us;
lost in a forest
of white.
I sleep
next to you,
embraced by
your whisper,
warmed by
your smile.
I love you
quickly,
before the happiness
escapes me.

Less a friend
than an addiction
big shoulders
pushing boulders
up thick grass
gaining mass
losing breath
with each step
a passion for pain
a predilection
for black
scratch my back
I'll stab yours
end my days
in a haze
I know the ways
to get lost
fingers crossed
on my knees
heaving lunch
or was it brunch
no matter
we're all a splatter
in the end
less a friend
than an affliction

We traveled in a capsule
to a distant galaxy,
to a far out land,
man.

We hovered above the jagged rocks
staring at undefined colors;
bouncing off crystalline images
of gods and goddesses frolicking in the island
mist.

The sun, oh the freaking sun,
it was an orange lollipop.
Tiny woodland creatures
played maypole around the stick,
a steady stream of warm water
cooled their furless skin.

We landed gently on the soft terrain;
exploring each other in a world hidden beneath
a blade of tall grass;
sunflowers dripped honey dew onto our tongues.

We played with headless creatures,
they were unburdened by
their brains
which floated in the space
above them.

Their brains were nothing more than
empty thought bubbles.
We used our bobby pins
to burst each and every one of them;

further unburdening the headless creatures.

As the headless creatures shed
their lifeless skin revealing candy hearts
with messages like “I love you” and “You’re sweet”

we ascended into the space
no longer preoccupied.

i am nobody’s son

love without love
is a sin

and mostly sin
is a little thing

that grows
and procreates
and separates
like cells

like infected cells
spreading through
generations

she chews gravel

so every sound
aches for
absolution

and when I hear her

i want to
feel my
deepest aches

i want to
feel my hardest
separations

i want to be
disconnected
from everything

i am doll parts

bent arms
bent legs
tangled hair

a plastic smile
painted in
pretty pink

to create
full luscious lips

I am love without love

i am an
interchangeable
sexless torso

the fat hamster
in the wheel

chasing dreams
it knows it can
never catch

but it can’t stop itself

I know what it is
being ripped into two

sides

warring against
each other

the dichotomy
of demons

wanting to possess
others to live

The girl slips into darkness.  Her eyes swallow night. She seeks a crowd to be alone. She dances to electrons, rubbing against tight boys who could never matter.

She needs a night of empty.

She is trying to escape the nights of mourning the recently departed. The lonely boy in the tight black pants walks into the bar alone.

He is the sound of electricity escaping from the wires. Suddenly, the touch of the vulture’s claws on her pale thighs makes her sick. She loses herself in the white night. He floats above it all; the only pill to cure a night like this. She is incapable of swallowing.

When he whispers the name of another all she hears is a bird in a cage asked to sing quietly because the neighbors might complain. She disappears into the crowd to be alone.

and I heard words
that jumped at me

fish on a feeding frenzy

we give our life
to meaning

meaning is the
drug

meaning is the
hurricane

spinning
spreading
*******

we create
meaning
in a mushroom

the secret
shhhhh…

knowing which
one is poisonous

what happened
last night

it was like
tomato soup
boiling and
spilling over
the edges

catching everything
on fire
growing in height
spreading in width

it was all the rage

a pressure
cooker
unhinged
coming to life

a room
ravaged and
torn to pieces

an electric
heart
broken
circuits
shattered
strands of
wire

shreds of
a broken soul
bleeding
onto paper

they say
satan was the
most beautiful angel

the favored one

broken when
rejected by his
truest love

what happened
last night

I saw the
shape of
god’s back

straight and
stiff

Sound, sound, sound
the dimensions of which are endless, defenseless, I can be quiet, like you told me.  

Only you said it in a way that was far more unsettling.  What are the metaphors for the quiet; a snake, a cat before it pounces on an unsuspecting mouse, oh, the defenseless mouse, and the dead?  

I learned how to be quiet one night in a breathless bar.  It was with you, I think.  My memory goes in and out; oh you already know that, of course you do.

We were there no more than ten minutes when my voice disappeared.  The suddenness was almost laughable to you.  I opened my mouth to speak; sandpaper rubbing against my vocal cords swollen from useless overuse.  It is strange how many people can suddenly go deaf.  

Here we are again, you ignoring me as if I do not exist.  You seem to be disappearing into various levels of sound as I begin to merge into the surroundings.  With only one sound there is silence.  I could be a ghost.  I could be a ghost.

We were at the same place, on the very same night.

When we bumped into each other she blamed it on the faulty lighting.
I should have known better, it was more like a brush than a bounce, a lingering brush, that titillated not irritated.

I can laugh now, the crazy, crazy glue, she was.

The burning bulbs flickered ghostly shadows against the hallway walls.  Hallway, now that’s funny, the club itself was nothing more than a hallway.  They were portending, ghostly shadows, pretending to dance.  The lead singer of the band was a screamer who made better love to his microphone than I ever made to a girl.  It was a hot night, shirts were more like skin; even the shadows sweat profusely.  

I left her just for a moment…to find an empty stall.

Redundant fluorescent letters covered the bathroom walls, “Red only plays with the darkest knights, Red only plays with the darkest knights, Red only plays with the darkest knights.”

I waded through the waves of wanton youth to her still body.  The night only started when she leaned into me and said, “Whisper something sinister.”

Her voice filled my body, filled my body with thrilling chills of anticipation, but only for a moment.  And I would do anything to get that moment back, but when it’s gone.

It is gone.

And no one remembers what came after.

red blood or
red poison

I am awake
in the middle of
the night

feeling bugs

a swarm of
energy

coming
to life

others
asleep

I dare not
scream out

so I scream in

death is an
implosion

breaking through
my inner skin

into the silence
that surrounds me

and my cells bleed
poison not blood

I carry him inside of me
the little one lost

he is small
but heavy

like a dark star
like a black hole

broken at birth
born into a broken egg
he has so many deep scars

the kind that never really heal
so even after all these years
they are still tender
to the touch

he never really learned
how to feel

or more accurately

he never really learned
how to make sense
of his feelings

I want to speak his words
express his feelings

he held them in
for so long

he tried to fit in
…sort of

but he was cursed from
the beginning

he was somehow
smart

smart in a way
that made him
see more
hear more
feel more

so much that it
made him cry

so much that
he had to hide

so he didn’t cry
so much

even when he was small
he was larger
than the others

he was larger
in ways that made
him heavy

and no one could
explain him

they didn’t know
the theory that could
explain him

make him feel better
make him make sense
of himself

but I have learned
a theory to explain him

a theory of levels
a theory of sight
a theory of time

but now he is so far away

buried under layers of time
buried under layers of scars

I don’t think he can hear me

if he could maybe
he would lighten my load

the gathering
of angels

white robes
chanting

the wind sings
hymns

the light has
a voice
evoking
verses

hands lift
hypnotically

and we all repeat
after

I feel the weight
pressing down on me

it feels like
a snake is
searching for my
breath

I feel
tight inside
like my skin
is shrinking

like I am being
wrapped
in plastic

they tell me salvation
is a moment

they tell me salvation
is a series of words

and I pray
the series of words
in silence

asking for
giveness

and after
we all smile
as if one mouth

wanting to be right
wanting to be liked
wanting to belong

I was in a church

I was in a school
created by a church

there were teachers
and preachers
and books

everything was certain

the beginning and
the end
were certain

nothing was gray

black and white
never kissed

and then there was her

she was mathematic
she was the differential

and after we kissed

she said
angels die

so matter
of factly

that it must
be true

I hope I am
an onion

or maybe a lemon
or a grapefruit

anything but a
tangerine

there have been
moments
when I felt myself
complete

every cell
of body and soul
integrated
alive and
thriving

a universe
inside a universe
giving birth
to another universe

sensitive
to the fluttering
of air
the movement of
butterflies
from anywhere and
everywhere
electrifying my skin

penetrating
making me

come out of
my skin

emerging

with wings
white and thick

a soul aged not old

I have had moments
like this

they always start
when I stand on a cliff

and lift my arms to fly
and I jump

believing I can fly
or someone will catch me

I was always parts
of others

held together
with white glue

sticky not strong

not strong enough
to stand on my own

I met her
by accident

she opened herself
and spoke to me
with her soul

soft words

that I could hold
within me

soft words
that did not
damage me

alien words
that let me breathe

alien words
that created
more space

than they
occupied

freeing me
to become

last night.  the earth felt weak. the full moon bled.  and I cried.

the darkness around me. separated into pellets.  into pills.  
penetrating life.
spreading into the river.  
blood and water.  the body.  
electricity and light.  the mind.

I was young once.  and halos were real.  worn by the innocent.
everyone is innocent.  or ignorant.  until they aren’t.

we are the same.  one line.  coming or going.  
there is one line.  we are on.
a tight rope.  we all try to walk.  to balance ourselves.
against each other.

but there is no self. without another.  next to us.  comparing us.

I hear sounds down there.  something shattering.
leaving sharp shards.  on the ground.  pointing up.

waiting for us to fall.  one after the other.

I take gentle steps.  slow and easy.  
I don’t want to raise my heart.  beat.
I won’t stop the bleeding.

so I wipe away the same stain.  every day.  the same stain.

last night.  I felt weak.

Who am I?  I is a letter not a word. a letter is unique.  one of 26.  only 26.

I have never felt like one of…anything
to say one of…means when you are not there you are missing

you are missed

I have disappeared many times
but I have never been missed

The earth is vast.  But my space is narrow.  A cave.  I see only projections.  To me.  You.
Who ever you are.  Are what you were that day.  Nothing more.  

I am a bad habit.  The result of a bad habit.  I was never intended.  I have no tongue.  My words are garbled.  Misunderstood.   I have no ears.  Your words do not exist.  To me.

Eternity is a circle.  Inside a square.  And I feel the breath of a dying angel on my skin.  Cold.  Like the reach of desperation.  Hope is one finger raised to heaven.  And a cliff.  You choose the finger.  

Guardians are a myth.  No one is watching us.  

I am listening to Interpol again.  the first record.  when it was a new sound.  and you could get lost.  in it.  you wanted it.  but did not know what it was.
what do you do when you meet your own resistance?  do you mingle and merge?  or do you run and hide?

I: Impressions

I want to
love you
I want to
feel so many
things
that I don’t
instead of just this
one thing this
one jumbled
unidentifiable
thing, this…this…
monster on the inside
made from
the unfelt
parts of
emotions;
leftovers
of moments
not one of
which was fully
experienced.

II. Explosions

All was quiet
at the beginning
of time
the big bang
made no noise
a startling spectacle
of suddenness
it was all sight
and no sound
color was its
afterbirth;
a by-product
of chemicals mating
and procreating.

III. Inventions

the universe
was seeded by sounds
the wush
of a hand moving
quickly
through a dark cloud
the tiny fingers that
crack
as they grasp
for a meaning, any meaning
and a stiff drink to
glug
glug

I know something
out there has to resonate
something has to be
real

Doesn’t it?
Doesn’t it?

I

truth is not a wall

it is not a permanent
structure

it does not permanently block you out
it does not permanently block me in

it is freedom

and like words
it is ambiguous

it learns
and changes
and evolves
over time

as we learn
and change
and evolve
over time

the world is
not a cake
but it is layered

it needs to be broken
down into more elemental
pieces to be understood

and then built back up
into a new form
to make sense

and it needs people
who are capable
of understanding
to make sense of it

II

the man has many words
but not a lot of thoughts

and not much meaning
he doesn’t mean much

he is not layered
he is very small
in depth

the layered world
is too big for him

he cannot make sense
of all these layers

he does not understand
what is happening

he cannot process
all this information

but he is too scared
to admit it

so he avoids it
or worse he fights it

he destroys everything
above him

and most things
are above him

he has to try to
shrink the world

so that it makes
sense to him

III

many people
understand this
about him

they use words
like *****
or child
to describe him

and whatever word
they use

what they
are really saying is
that he is small and simple
minded

that he is not capable
of understanding this layered world
which he is supposed to lead

and it is these people

who know firsthand
of his smallness
and say next to nothing
and do next to nothing

and even worse
support him

try to explain him
to others

to explain to others
what he means

to explain to others
how he makes sense

these are the people
who should feel shame

IV

we all are who we are
we all do what we do

just as he

it is up to others to check us
to balance us

that is why our founding fathers
gave us a system

three separate but equal parts

it is up to us to use them
the way they were intended

it is up to use
to understand that parties
or whatever we call them

are beneath our systems

it is our systems
that are supposed to live long
after we die

just as they lived long
after the founders died

V

that is our legacy as Americans

that is why America is great
that is when America is great

I walked into her parlor with the other guests.  We were a mass so it seemed like we were all together.  I was late to a joke so my laughter lingered too long.  I was never a comfortable guest; of course I was worse as a host.  I leaned gingerly against a post that held a bust of the guest of honor, when he was much younger.   A girl much younger than me touched my brow.  I don’t know why she did this; she just did, and then she disappeared.  

He was a handsome man, when they made the bust; he achieved his fame from a book he published in his twenties.  It offered a theory of human nature that had been offered many times before, but in different words.  I don’t know why this brought him fame or why his fame lingered so long, but it did.

Hers was the last parlor in the city.  The other parlors faded like so many other fads, but hers did not.  And it was not just a group of aging friends who gathered here but the young found something fresh and alive in this room.  I don’t know why they still sought her company, but they did.

She invited me to sit next to her.  She was aging in a way that made me long to be elderly.  She smelled of lilacs.  She said, “I notice you alone.”  I didn’t know if that meant that I was alone or that she was alone.  Either way she had a way of making the obvious seem like a secret.  She looked at me and smiled, “You really have three choices, darling, to connect with others, to connect others to each other, or to connect others to themselves.”

“The network is god, darling, and you must serve it or die.”

letters dance
in violence

shed family blood
trying to break
eternal bonds

but they cannot
**** each other

they cannot die

my mind has
these worry lines

deep crevices

where blood flows
into tears
and nothing ever dies

and I live
like adam

with…one story

where I am
always falling

something is coming
cold and thick

like the arms of a viking

it is supposed to be
locked away
in the north
beyond the white walls

it didn’t escape
it was released

by another sinister being

a warm water being
thousands of miles
away from the wall

it isn’t supposed to be here
but it has been here before

it has a name
but it does not
respond when I

ask it to leave

it makes itself
at home

spreading itself
across our land

like distant relatives
in my living room
during the holidays