Poetry Attempt: Nonsense, Nonsense, Nonsense

 It has been a little while since the last piece I finished. My brain has been plagued with medically induced numbness that feels borderline inescapable. Inspiration is hard to come by. Within the pages of my withering, stupid little notebook I found an avalanche of nonsense that I tried my best to make some sort of sense out of. Inevitably I added to it, edited it, and mutilated a chunk of it to be left to fester into a different poem on a different day. But for now, here's something new. Something nonsensical.  Something painfully confessional. Something like all the rest. 

Death is Symmetrical 

Hordes of shattered windows

Dead rats, fried and hanging,

Blotting out flickering lights,

I’m folded over on the floor of the train 

Leonard Cohen lowly in my ears

Singing of unreachable distant stars 

His voice falls into black holes

Circulating wildly in place 

Where all the passengers’ heads once were. 

Waves of mechanical laughter

Electronic pygmies 

With sharpened twigs and curved blades

Ready to descend on me

As a bullet blossoms infection 

In my punctured gut,

With a knife in my eye

And a syringe of your spit 

Left falling out 

From my eroded, lipsticked-stained veins

The train tilts

And sheds its carrion structure 

Before it collides, crashes

And collapses 

Into electricity and manifested painful pangs

Closer and closer

To my ultimate loss. 

Convulsions set in,

Flash of oily blood 

Streaked across mold-covered tile

Body in static

Stilted, jittery, bone-snapping animations,

My puppet strings tangled in hangman’s knot

Around the buzzing overhead wires. 

Banquet of skull flowers bloom

In frenzied light, in maddening celebration 

Of all the ones who’ve changed me,

And every single lost day

Haunting the shredded, infinitesimal fragments 

Of my imploded, deflated brain.

Lodged with thorns,

Flower buds in self-inflicted razor blade flames

Lost in agonized pleasure, 

Mispronouncing your name 

As you closed in

And I locked myself inside you.

Drifting head first

Onto the abandoned railway tracks.

Cutting through the porcelain forest 

And enflaming the cardinal points 

Dug into both of our wrists. 

I’ve failed

Again.

Marking my last stand 

In front of the fogged bathroom mirror 

Piles of dead sparrows at my feet,

There’s no waking you up

Illusions crawl up the walls

While I work to terraform the rippling contours

Carving out rivers, seismographs 

And shining caravans of leeches

Into my fated, expired flesh.

A dream of your name

In the bloodied steam 

A Sad Sadness Song clicks in the distance

Eating the needle 

While the pills overwhelm

And from the tenebrous depths 

Of my sleepless soul

I pray 

I won’t be coming back. 

But I’ve woken up into failure

Again. 

An orgy of self-destruction 

A hedonistic abundance

Of premeditated decomposition,

Remembering the only sensation able to be felt

Were the rats gnawing and pulling 

At whatever remained between my rotting ears. 

Midnight cabal rummages through the deserted tunnels 

A great oak tree canvased with noise 

Grows out from the trenches of wounds

Spiraling down the moon-bathed mountain path

Music of murderous cicadas 

And crows eating their young,

You plant your disease in my mouth

As formaldehyde-leaking fetuses

Launch themselves between the still-birthed hands

Knotting together the constellations,

Our separated skies,

All the cosmic inscriptions 

Dazzling with our spelled-out doom

That I chose to ignore. 

What is reality

With you so permanently far away? 

We can’t hide

From our sleep-deprived hallucinations

Your sickness assailing me

I drink in your dying dreams

A fool lost in the boundless heaps 

Of scattered, illogical patterns composing 

Your sordid, little life. 

I am 

Losing 

Control.

Third rail sparks 

My phantom limb extends 

Towards the chunk of me still squirming with life 

Left on the tracks. 

Oncoming car roars and laughs, the light is too much. 

Find me missing 

Visiting you during the lost days of my diagnosis

Days of ideation and despair 

Finding myself momentarily lost in you,

Musick to Play in the Dark fades out with your moans

We tossed my D.N.A space-suit

Into the trash behind. 

But that’s not the right memory,

I already lived this death 

In another time, in another place

Now I’m on the floor of my childhood bedroom

You’re someone else

Heaving above me

Cutting shadows of your undulating form

Dissecting the orange lights

Behind wisps of fire falling from my ceiling

And the pavement melting and unfurling outside.

We’re somewhere else,

Sutures in the sky unknowingly become undone

The needle clicks, my eyes clench shut

Then stops.

We’re passing maggots between holes 

In our respective tongues,

You’re someone else,

Fiddling with your piercing

And counting my pills.

A forested motel ushering in syrupy rain

The corpses dug up around us,

I left you there

So I can join them. 

You’re here

Molesting my grave

Whispering right before you leave,

“All of this passes.

To make it through the pain,

On me, you can decay.”

Maelstrom of failures,

I can’t let you stay,

All of these moments are painfully eternal

Your face shifts and undulates beyond forms, 

Nothing lasts, 

Not even death

Gazing at the railway tracks, 

I’m violently pushed 

By the cascading

Wrathful cloud of personal failures

And all the beauty 

I’ve abandoned and suffered.

Wake once more into failure,

I’m ready to self-destruct

Drag you all down

And bring upon my inner apocalypse

All over again. 

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