rorschach nerves &
mercury veins -
i am no tragedy boy,
but i have self-decay
down to an art.
this tar tongue only starts
marlboro conversations &
i only start fires.
invisible, unseen like the shadows you've left behind.
How I wish I could evaporate and mingle with the fine atoms,
the ones that form the air I inhale, exhale.
Breathe. Still alive. Seen.
One by one, they rush through their spacious ways,
They always find their way around - to form me.
to complete me, make me then break me.
And my pieces remain scattered.
Longing to be one with the air,
To become one of the small atoms,
Forming the molecules of my mind,
One by one, the images fade away
Taken by force, never to remain again.
And I'm left, one of the small atoms,
Left with no memories and no dreams, Finally -
Serenity. Tranquility. Stillness.
Change was what happened when the first biotic molecules were created from inanimate matter and electricity. Change was was what happened when Mary Shelley penned Frankenstein and his monster [who, like those protobionts, was created from matter and electricity.]
Change was what happened when the first modern man evolved, and was what happened when he [or perhaps she] discovered the use of fire. Change was what happened when people became civilized.
Change was what happened when we stopped hunting and began farming by the rivers, began building up rather than out, began forming communities rather than herds.
Change was what happened when ice crept over the planet, and when people learned to adapt. Change was what happened when the last mammoth, the last saber-tooth tiger, the last huge reptile moved for the last time.
Change was what happened when we marked our calendar into its days, its months, its seasons. Cha
And sing a lullaby into the darkness
To fall asleep
I'd lie on the floor and string chords together
And melancholy notes
Bit by bit
I think they all saw my blood
Splashed across that cozy bedroom
They could force those lost molecules back into my
I knew we weren't real all along
(Just rag dolls
Sloppily stitched together
Or some sort of
And if we did exist
Why would I feel so empty inside?
That your world
That the stairs from your bedroom
(The only place you feel safe)
To the living room below
(who could call it that? You don't live there.)
Were just a perception of the mind,
And that if you didn't believe in them,
They wouldn't exist at all.
When you breath now,
You're always afraid.
Because there's a chance
That the oxygen molecules you depend upon
Have all disappeared.
If you look closely enough,
You'll see that you, yourself,
Are just an optical illusion.
Is a seething mass
Of warring particles
And contradictory beliefs.
From a distance,
Everything is serene,
And as beautiful as celestial movement,
Or the smile on your lips.
But a closer look reveals
The chaos of subatomic structure,
And the twisted insanity
Of your heart.
I think that your atoms
Are on the verge
Of falling apart.
I long to cling to you
In a vain attempt
To hold you together.
If I could,
I would sooth the seething, constant motion