Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Homage to a Tumor

A malignant
of the heart.

It's the spring of my life, the winter of yours. It isn't for me to decide, it isn't for me to abide the very callousness of your nature, your reverence for the bleak, the dark, the damaged light. The scales tip, we all fall down sometimes. We have our crosses to bear, and those of us who do it trying to creak out a grin don't do this out of weakness. We do it out of strength. It isn't always easy being

cheerful, amazingly upbeat
and optimistic,
but 'whatever gets you through the night'
is quite alright,

So long farewell auf weidersehen goodnight it's not alright the way you curse and moan and fight, the way you suck out all the light, the way you never can decipher wrong from right. I take a leave of absence, a hiatus, from your stream of conciousness, so heinous,

so cruel and cold
You think it's being bold.
It's really just casual infrequent
slaughter of a character.

My character.

My myth, my legend, I came across a sea to find you, or so you'd like to think, your mind being on the blink, you can't see for your eyes, the danger lying within just out of arms reach you try to grasp, I'm out of reach, because you push with the tips of your fingers, you push as you clench, you push away as you draw in. You draw

circles of omnipresent procrastination
the ever present sheet of paper with lines too wide
the pen too narrow
your heart too soiled and solidified in it's rage
against the dying, dying of the light
to quote again

You never quote
For thoughts that aren't your own
Have no resonance

No voice.

No voice like your own,
no hands like your own,
no heart quite like your own.

Closing time, farewell goodnight
to all the little things that creak about the night
(it's dark inside your chest,
the beats play out a tune)

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