Merciel

To lift you up: my body’s agony,
my heart’s delight. Though arms will buckle, sight
will never sore to witness you defy
the laws of gravity when you take flight.

Your joy when willowy legs levitate
above gravity’s chains give flight to doves
the hunters pinioned. Though teeth gnash from weight
so great, the world I’ll carry you above.

No treasure–even Columbine–I’ll hold
as devotedly as I carry you–
more polish than pearl, more glimmer than gold–
whose laugh empties the grave and tames the shrew.

Though muscles tear, I’ll suffer every trial
to relish the manna that is your smile.

To wean off her is unlikely these days.
She tastes like Eden’s roses that pricked me
last Summer. Autumn ends. Winter remains.

Her emeralds eclipsed the Sun and stained
my sight with light that tints everything I see;
to wean off her is unlikely these days.

I sheltered in her home as seasons changed
but fled from her when I spotted the fleas
last Summer. Autumn ends. Winter remains.

I crawled through wilderness and ate of grain
but never found melons that taste as sweet;
to wean off her is unlikely these days.

I circle homes in which I’ve seen her play
and vainly cry for mercy–to reprieve
last Summer. Autumn ends. Winter remains.

Therefore, I had no choice but set aflame
her homes, her gardens, and even her fleas.
To wean off me is unlikely these days.
This Summer, Autumn ends. Winter remains.

Slippery freeways
steer me toward diesels as I
write Hayden’s ballad.

It’s the end of an era for me. Happy New Year! Happy New Decade!

An oyster for every cunt
who wooed me with purrs;
an abyss for every dick
who poked at my flaws;
a puppet for the princess
who strayed among mutts;
a puppy for the bitches
who marked me with shit;
a slave for every god
who drowned me in dreams.
All things for all people
left nothing for me.

I saw a girl I met in church–
I knew her many months before.
I thought she looked like Megan Fox–
I almost fell in love with her.

Her face matched Megan’s perfectly–
except her eyes bulged a bit more,
the braces barely held her teeth,
her nose bent with the sharpest curves.
Her body, however, had none–
the waif wore baggy pants and shirts
to hide the threads that dangled from
her wafer torso. Only her
unwashed and pasty platypus
feet gave her gravity. And thoughts
she shared would never compensate.–
their texture’s as stringy as hers.

Nevertheless, her silhouette–
blurred, distant–resembled the girl
I dreamt of fucking every night,
and so I started dating her.

My heart once beat erratic rhythms, bleats
against the white-washed walls–social attire.
One night it broke apart–the sheep replaced
it with a clock they set to snooze and snooze
without a beep, and played their games without
me. Sprockets rusted into dust, rain short-
ed every wire. In only four years,
the contraption expired, so I replaced
it with a chest that holds fermented dreams
and memories. I decorate them with
some glitter stolen from the muses I
listen to religiously, then perform
the plays–they validate my days inside
this cave. I polish edges not to poke
and sand the faces of emotions they
invoke. If friends inquire my condition,
I’ll answer with scraps cut into portraits;
if they offer my name in petitions,
I’ll stretch their prayers by flaunting scars I bear;
if they ask favors from me, I’ll promise
them lies before I lock the door on them.
Behold! My reincarnation–reversion!

Every tap upon the glass garners not one word;
my whimpers, my wit, my rants are unheard.
Their bustle has muffled my cries for sight
with noise that smothers mine as the starry nights
are bullied by Times Square lights. My meager might
cannot transfigure this lonely beggar’s life
when nobody brings me Kisses or butters me up
with sugary tweets or lavishes my dusty cup
with candy-coated creams. I dine on dreams
of awe and adoration but remain unseen,
fed only copies and pastes. Am I just a name
to fatten your list, to feed your own fetish for fame?
It’s a game I never learned how to play. A runt
has no value in a market glutted with cunts.

I wish I never met you for you raised
my hope beyond gravity’s grasp, light years
beyond what little reason I embraced.
No angel can shift my eyes from heights
not even God can reach and Babel can–
not scrape the bottoms of you feet. I’d build
an ark to ride the floods you kindle with
your emerald fonts to Paradise shores, but
another has already claimed Eden.

Can I survive when forced to settle for
less than you, dwelling depths fathoms beneath
you? Guppies won’t suffice–already spoiled
by manna–can’t stomach the rotten meat
the other women flaunt. Adorn a dog
in jaded jewels and ivory paint; she’d be
no worse than every other bitch who swarms
the churches, bars, and alleys. Dreams of you
taste better than the gruel lapped from those whores;
they’ll never whet my appetite as you
can even distances–decades–apart.
Why then awake? The Sun vanished, the air
dissolved, and this red planet’s life is miles
beneath craters buried in permafrost.

I went to church again but only to
assure my friends depravity had not
corrupted me, despair had not destroyed
me–rumors will proliferate when gone
for weeks–but then I figured to invest
my life in friends who considered it gold,
not gossip, so I harvested my roots,
I salt the soil with rumors suggesting
addictions to sodomy so the seeds
I treasured once won’t flourish and entangle
me in withdrawals on nights nostalgia strikes;
I left behind lies and embraced new lives.

A little girl starved for stimulation stole
my heart–her desperation promised
possibilities. From her eyes, her ethnicity,
I relapsed into nostalgia I never could
resist. Perhaps, I thought, she could love
me. I poked, I prodded for a pulse that beat
for me, but snagged a seam and tore
a hole. Her silence convicted me of murder,
but, no blood poured from her wound;
her stepfather had already bled her dry.

I offered her a torrent of tears to compensate
for my transgressions, flames on my face served
me penance, but she neither flinched nor fled
from my offer–her glare skull-fucked me senseless.
The serpent’s gaze hardened my bleeding
heart until it broke apart, so I ripped her open,
plowed for sustenance, reparations, vindication–
the depths I reached were limitless, but
no stab was deep enough to make her bleed.
Her stepfather must have had dibs there too.