what languid sullied stillness, to be sheltered

in that cocoon lava and call it – pleasure

but pleasure bites like a dog in heat, focused

zoomed in; magnified, extrapolated till the whines

rattle the rails on their way to rusting, weakening

breaking: rocks becoming sand, a house enveloped

by a seal. a stamp, a signature whose mark i now carry.

is it you? the haunts, the bones becoming chill as leaves

wither, a deer almost ran unto me, startled eyes apprehensive

while i clutched, hands bearing so hard, palms bleeding

and still the corners of silver lining appeared to be lulling,

a dead lull of sunken bodies wanting to break free,

a density, an oppression, a chuckle i thought i knew that chuckle

from an old familiar i once hung out with.

is that you? for the memories tug, the chains are like death’s

bridges yawning, my lips are silenced when my body contorts

they say flesh is a living thing, a second half, a twin whose

every impulse reeked of want, desire, stretch an imagination –

then the ponies flash their fangs, horrid sputum splashes like acid

with a cry, unheard by flesh’s intoxicating focus, like that dog in heat,

unable to tear away from a prize. what price indeed!

the chasm widens, the logs roll down from that immense sky

each boulder thundering through air, whizzes past a soul comprehending

life. the ridiculous, the abhorrent, the cast aways, the broken reed,

the wasteland, the tragic valley of bones still wanting grace;

slips away like a cunning snake, tells a story tall as the sky,

stretch the mind, stretch the flesh, it all makes sense till the chains

begin to harden, the flesh withers, the soul feels the outline of

existential bars – they probe, they interrogate, they question,

they stomp on, they grasp the snake of heaven and tall tales

proved to be dust after all; never mind that.

is that you? and this time found only existential nothingness,

the shimmers, the delusions, the illusions, the self talk, the masquerade

even the tales have left – nothingness. a void, a journey towards

the sky but no ladders to climb and it was a limitless path with

no rails to hold on to, no dog in heat to allow focus,

even if it was a bad direction, it felt real, and that’s the problem isn’t it?

is that you and hedonism unwrapped her outer shell, void, empty

inside, just cold silence and accusations, a mad house built reverently

each brick layered on top like a cake being baked, what aroma!

then the icing, the cherry, when plain vanilla no longer sufficed,

another tall tale whispered in nothingness: and it cost me nothing,

to the sky i leapt into golden sunshine forever, cast away from

cold blank nothing, hedonism revisited. this is me,

honeyed, starry eyed, cozy, warmth, sufficient, density, bones,

rewrapped and when i tried to ask again, found nothing,

no soul peering out to touch the chasm that is now eternal,

no soul seeking, searching, just a warmth that bathes, nourishes

gives, joy thundering, the sky splits asunder, and still silence

the silence scared me more than anything,

nothing. absolutely nothing. eternal nothing.