Merciel

My memory of her has survived
the annual tempests in which I purge
myself to squelch her image
from my mind, each feature
she possessed (without equal) still intact
(particularly her green eyes).
Although I now offer my heart to others,
my soul belongs unequivocally to her,
whether she’s noticed or not,
and should she appear at my door,
I’d throw everybody else I love into the abyss.
and present what I’ve reaped from them as an offering to her.

I poke in dabs but never drip a drop

of worthy words. They’re either flat or pitched

so high they sound like teenage rage. They flop

in seas of wavy thoughts and points amiss

in imagery as though begot atop

a flight with opium’s guidance affixed

inside my brain and never hit the spot

I hope to bleed. I sorely need a kiss

from muses with subtle features not lost

in gaudy game to escape words that give

away the meaning leaving me the shame

of airy thoughts unfocused and untamed.

Before me stands a kid about five feet
with innards burning red and violent green
hidden beneath a face of baby pink.
Released from his shell, given second birth,
he devoured loved ones like they’re dessert
and with hasty fists destroyed the world.
He leaps from the cracks into Heaven. Pain
he begot bleeds into me and inflames
my heart. During my nap he stole and ate
the world. Through jaded eyes I see his fate
belongs to me. I claw for strength
to kill the devil I grudgingly face.

The world trembles fearfully underneath
me as the tide leaps up to reach the peak.
My eyes shine with the tint of nature’s green
and golden locks weave through my seams.
The sun’s eclipsed as Light engulfs me
and within me the sky and the sea meet.

Now ready to face the devil I breathe
solid spirit fueled by losses he brings.
Ahead some paces on ground with firm feet
beating his chest, he’s waiting for me.