Tuesday, July 18, 2023

Cold as Summer

 

How could it be—thriving under pressure? I never agreed, a hassle I hold, heaving through exhaustion. To witness a dying office, bled into wood, strangling over steel; iron platinum, so much hurt, debating this life—to question a wife. By numb solutions, by rethinking meanings, lost in essence—a silent scent. Spent hundreds on steaks, a trillion on wishes, tragic existence, with Love in his belly. Rented a women’s hopes, lied to mother, fell into father’s traps; with edges leaking, each fringe in me, at a cliff with spirits—leaping, landing into faith, caged by realities. Had to get bent, had to do a ritual, had to believe in God. I know nothing else, so real to me, like a cross, a tree, just dripping life. Love was gorgeous, beaming in an afterlife, to awaken and disappear. I vanish, filled with secrets, a ghost!   

Time was Brief

    With deeper allure—to ward off ghosts—melancholia is an empire. Such dialogue confuses—: one wrestling despair. It was remote living, in...