Dried Blood

I saw God behind your eyes

I saw God behind your eyes

And there is no unseeing God

Not even for a recovering atheist

Damn the numb just bleed out over the table

Drain the lot until the last syllable

Dries like crusted blood next to the glass

Pressing send on an email at one a.m.

Another spit short story about mermaids and starfish

Vampires and unicorns, sodomy bears and centaurs

Muses of the moon and the man in the belly of the sun

Burning into the ashen darkness knowing the gravity of alone

An artist has to be alone with the art

Such a god damn lie

Glorification of solitude as superior to loneliness

Loneliness is where all the food is

The raw aching tumult of the maelstrom

Down, down, down

Aware in the wanting vibration of the denied

Once tasted and the never is where all the fuel is

Destroyed here in the oblivion of dusted bone twilights

Marauding insomniac parade mandates to write until the body breaks

Scratched throat, swollen tongue, red eyes to get the stories out

Before the flood of wanting ices up in the fulcrum of anger into the numb

The depressive numb of uncaring not because one wants

But because one has to, just god damn has to

To let the atheism back in like cough syrup heroin

To be mad at God instead of the self being what I have to be

This flawed wretch enveloped inside the forget

Of every taste of love becomes an opera

Only because I felt it so hard into clotted blood

Not because she did, just staring into the pathetic crux

That God has a damn bit to do with any of it