A mutual nature of thimble-fills of human emotion engaging. That particle inside that says this specific
person is of a quality for retention above transposable assembly-line
variety. blandness knocked raw in
that ancient way. I know there is nothing, absolutely
nothing. To even want to explain is so
un-masculine. It is taboo and harkens
the hand scars and boot heels dented in back flesh. I hear the garbage standard of nothingness,
the silence behind the epiphany of this is not going to work, go anywhere and
diagnosing that fissure of the
universe within each of us crackled with an incision of light. To let the better angels of our nature sing
in an aperture of where love emanates, risking the hardness shuddering the
infirmed.
The frailty of limbs and voice
box attempting in the harsh field of arid
cackle. The reams of divorce,
death, children’s finger nails raking the face of a father, the ignominy of
scarlet letters, and the isolation of island entombment. Sterilized menacing clay soldiers. Tone of voice, eye look
of last they moved and saying too much in this iteration would enliven the war
machines.
Write my explanations into
oblivion and drown in understanding feelings too fiery and
ethereal for this callous cluelessness of what it means to feel
in such torrents makes a man never want to attempt speech again, to hover in
books, in literature realms where this can never happen. The wanting can stay in patched thickets of
high weeds, bamboo, and kudzu until the memory of why a man even entered the
hedge maze is forgotten. The scent of
her is palm over palm of plant leaf stacked over skin so that the enzymes urge
a man to grow here in the camouflaged space.
The perpetual motion machine sways triumphant
that time will take another living being absent the sensation of love. The body hungry and hungrier, emaciated,
bony, and tissue escalating dehiscence.
A body knows happiness is only real if it is
shared eating itself in the distance, the absence created by the nature of
commitments and untethered wrecking balls careening wildly silently and leveling
cities without a single soldier firing.
The destruction is absolute in the understanding the weapon of an
embrace un-lifted is where the nuclear power emanates. A heart wanting to open to the witness of
another staged in readiness watching an empty thunder road to an unanswered
knock upon the door, Mary never exits the porch, just sunset, dust, and echoing
midnight.
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