Failed Poetry Experiment - Cutting up my words, saying nothing.

 I really don't know about this one. Half of this was written in a sleepless stupor during my time in Germany. The rest of it was written back in my rapidly closing-in world back home, isolating further and further. Someone take my dreams away. I don't think I even own my head. 

My Empty Body

There’s a siren of crows

Carried through the seismic currents

Of oscillating church bells 

And bombed-out ruins, monuments to 

The bloodthirsty divine.

Throbbing teeth-indented chunks 

Torn from crimson fingertips 

Hermetically cloaked by noxiously scented spirits 

Tracing the air 

With a ballet of syllables, spelling out 

All the newly discovered 

Ways to die. 

From their crackling beaks, lined with

Scars from blackened lightning bolts,

Drops a flurry of Ratkings 

Onto the solemn beggar’s head,

His skull is connected to his neck

Only by a soiled, coiled rosary

Each bead beating with a slow pulse,

Getting slower

By each passing procession of gargoyle-faced heretics

Ignoring his open

Searing

Glistening

Wounds. 

Scabs fall into the beggar’s cup

The church bells scream once more, 

Severed heads weighing down the ropes

Bridges curved towards the dream architecture 

And all the sharpened cacophonies 

Of weeping, destroyed Elysium

Sink rapidly into the golden sludge sea

His empty body 

Drinks deep the destruction,

The history of decay and misery 

And takes them all down,

Feeling nothing. 

-

Her skeletal feet drag across the floor

His upper body dangles and sways

From the seventh story blast hole 

Her disease leeches onto forcibly extracted dreams 

Sulphuric wind whistles through his vertical gashes,

Some undefinable blackbird

Plucks out his remaining eye. 

The mirrored light fixture splinters

Glass sails down on him, his limbs outstretched

On the intestinal fluid-streaked floor,

A rusted paradise dissolving above his head

There’s nowhere to hide

Fate tunneling new gashes through him,

Widening and deepening to make room 

For the concrete rain. 

She’s falling through mirrors

And broken bones

Forgetting him 

Forgetting reality 

Rearranging her face, pounding organ squeals

Ricochets out

From her abyssal, shapeless mouth

She chews on barbed wire and screams 

“Take me out of here,

Nowhere is home.”

He traces all of his atrocities

Down the blinding canvas of her back 

Twisting his hands, forming ship masts

From his misguided failures,

Misunderstandings, wrongfully manifested desires

And fractured pieces 

Of her spinal column

Jutting out and shining like an indescribably functionless

Metal coil 

Severed through their fallen paradise.

Their bodies are nothing

Their connection is fruitless 

This shared existence 

Is an endless exercise in pain,

The further they travel 

Through one another

The more rot to be found

The closer they get

To a bombed continent of no tomorrows.

“Take me away.”

What more is there to say? 

Rictus screaming angels 

Or vampiric statues, effigies to the reigning damned,

Plummet onto upturned piano keys,

Each jagged, serrated note

Autopsies the lost, destructive subconscious 

Guiding him off the towering steeple

Into sequenced, pre-planned depravity

And more opportunities 

For loss. 

He grabs the rusted knife

And smears rotten, fly-speckled jam

Across the crooked, descending Moon,

The sky bathed

With an unreal color of dried corpse blood,

His legion of forsaken stars

March on the barren earth.

She turns the maelstrom of carvings 

Onto him,

Dissects his spidering entrails 

And brings upon the storm of emptiness 

That has forever permeated inside him,

The husk of his emptied flesh 

Echoes with the chaotic church bells,

The birds dropping dead, 

The monstrous beggers feeding on morphic corruption,

The statues weeping with failed exodus, 

And yells out through his smashed skull,

“We must suffer,

We must ceaselessly hold on to you

We must suffer

To be with you.” 

Pale, faceless automatons

Scoop up his smashed flesh pile,

Discards it in a silver, soundless box,

Without a name

Finally forgotten 

Finally free.

 -