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| - "Superhero"
"And I know that I was warned
Still it was not what hoped."
-Ani DiFranco / Knuckledown
The rule is that if you wrote the rules then you can't complain about them. So I'm skipping the complaining part and, intentionally, the explanation part. It's enough to say that I was warned and still it was not what I hoped. A little further on in the song quoted above the singer states, "I've gotta knuckledown, just be ok with this." So here are my knuckles. I'm ready to be bloodied.
Anyway, on a less cryptic note, I have been having a lot of trouble writing recently. I have a lot less free-space recently and less quiet - the writer's refuge. So I've been a little stunted and I've had to make do with fragments. So be it.
Here's a recent fragment from something that was to be titled: The Monogamy Sequence. But it never happened, I couldn't commit to it (ironically enough) and instead I fleshed out a single line into a few tercets (and apparently a quatrain?) on the train today.
i. Weaponized Plutonium
there are some particles that should never kiss,
molecules that hump deadly missives,
a mathematic of down and further down.
I took you home and hollowed you out, gave a tug
at an errant string and let the fabric fall.
Your insides were waiting for a violence, made
to acquiesce; a womb wet enough for weaponry.
When you explode it will be at dinner, you wearing a tailored suit
a big smile and reaching for the wine with love
on your lips and love in your eyes.
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"I do it so it feels like hell"
-Plath
He died before I had the time and stayed alive too long
for me to steal what is mine. His eye is the wandering eye,
the sentinel eye, the eye of judgment, an aspect
of Babylon. Even the bones would do were I to cut them
from the meat of his thigh. I think he knows I mean to do him harm
the way he guards his breath, sleeps on a folded towel, drinks
so that no poison could flourish in his poisoned breast. I am poisoned too,
I mean
to do him harm. Even if he were not, which he is, I would do this
again and again - do it so it feels like hell - do it so it feels real, crush
his arms into bitter votive wrapped around me like a father might. That would be enough,
a handful, a token, hell, even the bones would do.
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| ...when it tells you what you already know instinctually. | | |
| - "Gimme Sympathy"are a novelty of the eye
a case study of the nostalgic
ache, the suspension of all good times.
Half white light, half
rainbows strung across wood like a wreath
stained warm pastel.
There is always another string of lights, always another
green on purple on white. | | |
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