Cemeteries and other Things

Cemeteries and other Things

I pray to foster love inside my being, grow and root and take the stakes and tie and bound and laugh and sleep and breathe these lies that a fantasy folly could be told like a story of real to a boy years from now of what was fabled lore.  These definitions are so stark and still resting in a book yet to be written over scratched out speech and vapid breaths a man has exasperated his self in bouts to forget the loves of incinerated nests in frozen trees over ice-thick lakes and power lines falling over bounds that break.  These lies we tell to children just to bare their sake. 

I will believe in one day and rewrite an epilogue to hold this love inside my being and dream to be the song a man will sing as he contemplates passing his graveyard being buried there next to her whoever that her might be, like a funny corpse holding hands in decomposed biology that there is some reason to believe the placement of these bones will carry on a spirit to grasp in a subsequent chorus continued in that beyond. 

Know her hand and know her skin and know her heart and know the feet that walked within these days and inside all these accoutrements of impermanence are there like a spell cast for a spirit of the tendril past intermingled in a symbiotic connection for a mutual eternal protection of this pass to touch that is not touch. 

Some how I felt those wings on you to hold me and if I wanted, that maybe you may have wanted to hold me too and believe the fleeting and the bold to take me out of these quandaries, dead and alive and bobbing within these tidal lines, I have you face and skin and bones within this rattle cardiac cage, All I see are empty crests of air away from where that place use to bare your name in interrogative eternities and wanting still these binds with me. 

I puff this out in exhales of can not put another swirl within the entrails of my hopes, the hospital bed of my dream-coffin date to lie with you and pray that eternal prayer.  I have to asphyxiate this daydream to find the will to power my concern , cut the roots and un-plant the plant begin in another woman, broken and beaten to appear exigent to progress beyond this stale-crumpled love beneath your sheets I will move on to lose the anchor of my buds

From ever blooming again