Poetry / Untitled

It crawls down the back of yor spine
Like a West Virginian heat wave.
A flame, masquerading as ice
Concious only within it’s own womb like grasp.

For one moment it appears, blindly from nothing
And the next it fades
Like gossamer thread spun between two fingers
in a dark room.

And when it’s grace has passed over
It leaves you, sitting
Like a cross eyed animal
Catching flies with your tongue.

All the words melt into algebra.
And all the noises buzz like a fridge.
And all the mouths open slightly
To let the cold air in.

And as it starts to float away,
Slipping through your butterfly net,
You swipe at the air around you
Letting the cool nothing dance with your fingers.

And you wish it would come back.
Come back like ocean tides, stumbling drunken two steps
Washing up upon your shore
And begging for your embrace.

But all is fleeting in this land now,
A wild and sensous land
A toy desert in which everything melts together
Like contrasting beads of melodic dew sliding down the spine of piercing grass.

It sits behind a womb garden,
A stone pillar set in place.
Crafting the universe as it sees fit
And taking away at the random will of desire.

Words are bursting shotgun wounds.
Actions are warcrys echoing throuh a small room.
Heights are endless, spiraling lofts.
And lows are hollowed out undertows in a deep blue sea.

And at the end of the day those left moving
Twitching, crawling, grasping
From fate’s random acts of bewilderment
They realize that it can only be one thing.

Love.

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