‘Untitled THX 36473’

‘Untitled THX 36473’

The streets are ablaze with the cawing of the birds.
A cacophony of crows and jack hammers crushing, convince me I am in Megiddo.
I whisper silent, hoping to be heard.
A fleeting sentence floating on wisps in the air.

These dire times have proved to bring out the best in me.
The ticking second hands, the melting ice, the fan rustling.
With my lover beside me.
And the omnipotence of the innate fear of the unknown.

I fall, arms drawn, pistol flashes and whizzing bullets down to their last.
Scarlet threads asphyxiate me; Entangled, dangling from the tree like strange fruit.
I seek comfort in the ambiguity of silhouettes.
Illuminated by the blinding lights glaring at me from behind.

Flicker, flitter, flutter, trickle.
My blood is dripping on your nipple.
I dread the day, photographs turned sepia.
Devoured and ravished by silverfish.

Regression, oppression, suppression, progression.
Who sings the songs that know the aching of my heart?
Will someone please circumcise the encasing crust and lift the wooden shutters that blind out the Sun?
They say these barren wastelands will never have a home but I lift my arms to shelter what I do not know.

How I long for fertile fields that sprout spring flowers that feed on our dead soldiers.
That sway and dance playful in the summer’s breeze.
Decisions or fate? That decide which side of the fence, the ripe apple falls upon.
The birds will still call in this maddening heat, with one less swallow who really did sing.

I am teetering on the tight rope between obscurity and obscurity.
A circus. A spectacle. A freak show.
Of what shall come and what must go.
For the yesterdays or for tomorrow.

Please accept this love medley presented in my weather beaten palms.
A potpourri, a motley crue, an amalgamation of nothing new.
I begin to wonder if you already know.
That I know you will always be this bold.




collaboration with my precious star
xoxo