Everything is empty. Everyone is empty. Everything is just gone.
The temples are cemeteries -and all the saints dying -and I’m just a pyre -an ash and embers filled -final birthday fire -for the dead and the burning.
Set me on fire, I don’t care, there’s nothing left inside. But nobody does -because nobody can -and its just not enough to keep me interested anymore -I burn everything I look at-and I just can’t stop….starting fires and instigating heat..
it’s a friction addiction I’m told.
I saw a bird in the tree looking for a mouse for dinner-but the ground was dry- and so the rodents were all gone-all eaten up one way or another -It’s not a harvest day here on my speck of earth. Nothing to kill, nothing to do…
I need more heat.
The weaving and threading of making something- a nest for wasps-or a way to stay warm- is also a loss.
I’m cold no matter how hot we burn.
The snow will start to fall soon and cover us all anyway.
There was no one inside and the lock was too rusty to open. So, yes, I’m sad that it’s all gone and everyone tried -but they’re dying now and the best days are behind us. The sun was setting without even a color.
How can I love you if you don’t get under the blankets?
How can I see you when it’s always so dark?
It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s been blindfolded.
I walked around the Deity expecting to be blessed but I only heard the whistle of the wind dying down deeper in the valley.
“He doesn’t live here anymore” they said.
And so I walked over to the edge of the cliff and thought about a million things at once,
“Am I really a bird? Probably not.”
So I though about dying and the red thread He put around my neck on New Year’s Eve and I thought,
“That wouldn’t be bad at all. Maybe it doesn’t matter and I might as well fall.”
But then the ground shook a little- just loud enough for me to hear that deep underneath Her She’s about to explode, fire under the belly, hot nectar from the moon- boiling in the cauldron down below…
“but I thought nobody heard me?”
I said out loud to no one.
Absolutely no one.
And the weeds have been allowed to grow and the tattered flags were blowing, I was bluish cold despite the red heat rapture of Her Soul-stirring the pot-while She walks sadly barefoot upon the earth.
“There’s just nobody here anymore. What am I supposed to do? I’m just like my aunt, saving mangey dogs who don’t even love me- not love me-no, only love their food and their blankets”
I guess it doesn’t matter. What do they know?
Stupid worthless dogs.
“I’m just like the spring flower who grew up in a field all alone. Getting old Dying before anyone could pick Her in bloom – and put Her in water- and brighten your eyes -and bring love to your heart.”
No opportunity. No junction.
And I saw the paint chipping and I spun all the prayer wheels.
“I don’t really know if these prayers work. I wonder if anyone feels them?”
No rapture. No solace. Probably not.
And then the birds even started getting cold and the road was so dusty. I opened the car door and got inside. “It’s so quiet in the car, it’s just like temple”
No Gods. No Ecstasy. I expect nothing from you.
Nobody loves the smile in Her eyes. She’s just another woman with nowhere to go. Nobody
hears Her calling to the Furies. Where have you gone, dangerous lady of the night?
No curses. Its not nice.
No. Just sit and shred papers. All the notes in your head. All the lists and all the restrictions.
Because it looks like nobody will be here on time for dinner anyway.
It’s a ghost town out there where My Cowboy used to ride.
And I remember the horse that He rode.
(No you don’t. YES, I DO)
“Take me with you. Far away from here where the fire isn’t something I have to make myself. Where the Men are the blood that I wear.”
But no longer do I go into the shadow that brought you to me…
because she’s gone, over the edge of forever.
Naked and bright like a star with no rider.
My heart has a hole that I just can’t fill,
honestly, God pokes too hard.
Where I fell from Him, is where I bow to you.
In my own special way, down on my knees…
bruised and bleeding…
and I learned to use to His weapon because He promised me love…
I mastered Him actually.
and I never listen unless I’m the one talking,
So that’s a problem of course…
just another kiss. just another mouth. just another touch of His mane against my heart.
wild stallion in the open field
you saw the only flower.
so I’m getting on,
don’t fight me.