Fragments "She Pulls Away The Fabric Of My Flesh"
What isn't glimpses itself through a refraction of words.
Words that only see themselves preach blindness.
I touch to know touch. Gentler than the whisper of a breeze, softer than the skin of water.
Nightmares like weeds are virulent they grow everywhere.
Suicide: a moment of anguish before the calm.
One more poem then I'll love you unseen. One more...the excuse of living.
Drunkeness a warm numbness that feeling strives to inhabit.
A world where the children of Earth are taught to abuse the children of themselves.
To see the skin that covers nothingness and live awhile caressing it.
To tarry is to live in the exultation of material consciousness.
To be disagreeable to many is to be true.
A rose bud within every rose.
My eyes are a home for the sky.
War a furious enterprise of savage beauty.
Pink flowers blossom red in the slaughterhouse.
The mystery of the sound that is crying. It is something we cherish, a miracle we cannot place. We are drunk with it.