Poetry Attempt: Failure to Keep It All Buried

Untitled Grief

The path through our consecrated grounds

Obliterated.

Last remaining dead trees uprooted

Or in a state of permanent immolation,

Softly rumbling storm clouds gather 

Never to depart,

The dirt is nothing but frozen tears and

Dried-up, crackling entrails.

It all died so long ago,

Yet a distant, solemn heartbeat 

Still occasionally pulsates 

And echoes back to me,

I look to the ground and see my world

Disappear. 

Visions of the first time 

We watched the moon rise

Past disintegrating brick buildings,

Illuminating stagnant rivers of

Stretched skin and

Severed bridges weighing heavy 

With our unexpectedly numbered days,

Embraces my sleep and pollutes my shadow 

Trained to look away from it,

Let it fade,

I stupidly refuse 

And reopen still-unhealed cuts 

Where you reside, gazing at me

With your draining light 

And venomous whispers. 

“Come and rot” 

This lingering, drifting desire

Makes no sense to me, 

It's permanently entwined in

Shredded robes of pallbearers 

That follows my every step. 

If I could shatter memories and 

Scatter them into the most privative 

Corners of this dying world

And free myself from this pain,

I don’t think I would be able 

To fully let you go. 

. 

There’s no choice 

But to follow into the vortex.

With a razor blade wedged between each tooth

I slam my face into the jagged

Marbled effigy 

Of how I wish to remember you. 

On the other side,

Past the flaming tree branches 

Raining from the sticky red sky,

Weaving between grimacing kewpies

In frozen acts of cannibalism

Rising and twisting out from 

Weeping mires.

An intoxicating haze hovers and combs

Through flickering wax beneath my feet.

Further down lies the all-too-often resurfaced catacomb 

Harnessing what you can not bear to face, 

But as long as it still haunts my dreams, 

Agony exhausted to the very end of this world,

The old age will never stay 

Buried.

Sysmic tears begin

To ripple through the forest walls

Waves of scintillating bugs close in 

As I dig my frayed, eroded hands 

Into the tainted earth. 

Your small footprint as my marker,

A sudden flash of your beautiful and tenebrous teary eyes,

I know I don’t have to do this

There’s no control here 

As long as you continue to occupy

The grand chasm expanding in my howling skull.

Ignoring the collapsing sky,

I pull the malformed yet beatific still-birth 

Out of the burning dirt,

Long after the life support machines

Fizzled and sang into the final sunset,

The last patch of graying flesh 

Now dissolving on my tongue,

The past forcefully degloved,

Engraved on its star-speckled bones 

Are the lyrics you wrote

For my death rattle. 

Fog horns and swirling feedback

Soars through the stifling air,

Scenery bleeds and falls away,

Nothing but me on my knees

Cradling the failed emergence of

Our maligned lives pulled fiercely together

Only to be torn apart. 

After severing my lips

And aligning myself with the destruction that abounds,

A commitment to baroque suicide,

I plant bloodied kisses on 

Its softly singing hollow eyes 

And wrap this feared creation of ours,

The dreamer of my steadfast nightmare wasteland,

The only vestiges I have left from you,

In a blanketing shroud of my extracted veins

And send it back through the hidden vortex 

In a dire,

Undoubtedly futile,

Attempt to reach you,

Knowing full-well

That it’s all too late. 

-