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listen, i want to exist in a void of nothingness with you just with our minds. nothing more? it should be the highest compliment. the most sincere 'i love you'. do you understand? sex, relationships, reality are all secondary to what we have already been experiencing. i promise, the answer is in this potential, this void, no action, the yin that draws us together. not our fumbling mumbling sleepy stupid average bodies. being a poet is frustrating because our physical reality can't POSSIBLY compare to our minds. the pure pulsing cascading shapeshifting multicolored multidimensional supernovas of consciousness that humans have made the mistake of associating with our beating hearts! sentimental, but pathetic. we know better than that. imagine our minds and energies slowly braided together like tentacles in zero gravity. how much fun would we have flying through the galaxy?
but then,
i am reminded of my own beating heart.
are my worlds reconcilable?
how do we go back and forth?
you and i are of the world of forms (the idea of you, the essence of me). blinded by each others' beauty. i mean BEAUTY. blinded thus, even as forms we fumble.
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| i come in and
Tar is sitting in the table in her
shiny foil
a trail one hand long
pointing usward.
la la la
i float above her,
gently,
we both do.
she tugs on my friends's coat,
hey hey.
he takes my hand and floats above her.
i want to kill her,
but the sun is so nice
on the balcony,
i close my eyes and look at it
in that dark way.
i feel good and sober,
my thoughts as they should be.
i don't need anything.
it makes my friend nervous
but it isn't his fault that i don't need him.
i want to kill her but
i can't because she isn't really there,
and she is many,
and everywhere.
she was jealous because no one could love her,
all they did was use her.
she's done her damage,
took my friends, made them stupid,
made me angry.
no one trusts anyone,
but i have a long list of everyone's secrets
that i have to keep straight.
she never keeps secrets.
not like me.
every time she makes
a poet stutter,
and every time she makes
beautiful hands shake,
she is hitting me in the face.
she is spitting in the face
of sex, love, freedom.
and once i saw her for
the manipulative slut she is
it became
so easy
to float above her.
to float above everyone.
to float away in my right mind.
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| he called me 'boo boo'
and not why you think,
but because i did not agree with him.
everything we said to each other
sounded like
'boo boo boo'
'mu mu mu'
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|
being so gentle
in this heaven
i created
i did, i did it,
i'll do it,
in my soft cave.
find each other halfway,
help you, help me,
flow.
nothing to do,
we can do anything.
this day is ours.
this day is gray..
and quiet.
its stillness
makes me want you more.
| | |
| it wants nothing more than
to burn in the atmosphere.
just look at it.
i would rather
become rain
and fall into
a valley.
what happens when love
is faced with violence?
what happens when violence
is faced with love?
is it weak
to turn the other cheek?
holy fuck,
does anyone understand how important this is???
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