Upon Why the Self is Empty
Composed 29 February 04
The reflection of an empty world
and swine before pearls
we sing out strains too warbled
for ears -- even the undelicate
we smile broken toothy grins
with deceit and desert
And escapism helps not at all
for what we want to escape is the self
pinned and printed to this flesh and skin
irretrievable, but can't be rid of it
The sky a sickly hue seems
while temperatures warm
while stars go supernova -- shine bright
then disappear forever
It's all just a futile game
best to be your own cheerleader
if you hope to get through this
if you hope to get through
toes in shag carpet
a testament to tactile feeling
too bad the heart is cold
too bad the words don't match
the intent -- perhaps just lack of
follow through
your daisies have died
and I've bloodied my wrist
on accident, I slipped
in the kitchen towards some cutlery
not quite blunt
we never mean what we say
caffeinated haze, gaze flung
never mean it
hat in midsummer
sopping hair in snow
we never
I could have loved
but you managed to be indelicate
tossed my heart to the winds
now dispersed like seed
too scattered to produce any
emotion in concentration
now surface skating
iced over ventricles
depend on sunspots for warmth
I open out my chest
open this cartilege and skin
wait for my heart to dry and splinter
and blow away in the breeze
wait for it to disappear into the dusk
