The way things dieI watched a bee who had long since stung something in defense of it's home and it's own safety. I was smoking a cheap red Marlboro outside of my apartment just watching it meander in circles attempting to find some destination of meaning. It could no longer fly and I felt an oncoming desperation as it slowly wobbled towards a nearby brick planter. There was nothing to save here. There was no mystery to solve. I began with deep empathy to create meaningless metaphors for the situation. After committing some great act you have mortally wounded yourself and wait for death. What is the purpose of the time between the great act and the inevitable end? My cigarette was reaching it's terminus and I decided to light the struggling bee on fire with a match. Better to go off in a blaze of glory than to skitter to your end.More Like This
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of your dark fur
dark dream wolves
nestling and prodding my weary body.
i am tired and not in the mood
for transformations, your blue jets of lust
do nothing for me.
Depart, demons. After you have
become drunk with my blood
and I have told you so many pretty stories
to hang upon the Night like many stars.
I detest your loneliness
more than I detest your pride.
There is no piece of the World
with its juices on your lips
or its tongue on your longing black heart.
my mouth curls into the words.
Fuck the two of you and your smooth bodies
waiting to be romanced.
There is nothing here
I keep shrieking but still they visit these caves
of plush forgetting.
We all want to rest our heads in a soft bed of sorrow,
And to survive on trains in the new desert
of thirsty hearts.
I haven't learned yet
how to be an animal amongst so many
fists of salt and commerce,
the desires of the heart and mind
never meant to much to me.
I spent half of my life
trying to give r