I have been stung by a great thing, and I suffer in the density of its greatness all day long and all night long I serve it’s ending of me. I really want to go. I am not immune to your sound. I’ll do anything for a glimpse of what might happen when I’m gone. In this other place where the vessel barely knows the thing that hijacked it, is this fog that rolls in and covers my body in a blind velvet cusp until I surrender to this clouded great thing that grabs me and whispers in my ear, the sound of me no longer living. This is where I know my way around, where somebody gave me the death of me…to the words that come before you hear them, meaning I will love you until the end of time, until you throw the lightening and take my head. I used to dream about you, but now I only see myself…now you’re just a germ on the bathroom floor and nobody ever saw you bending over the kitchen sink and nobody ever saw you crawling down the hallway looking for your eyes…nobody but me.
Groping with the clasp of certainty and never letting go of doubt…I am bound like a fossil in stone, these bones bearing a dreaded decay, I can barely feel the thing that stings anymore. I hear you through me hissing, as I imagine wasps must do, and through the numbing horror of my devotion, I listen to myself weeping in a place without you, because I love you even though it hurts like hell…
and I don’t even know who you are…I watch myself reaching and I don’t have the arms to catch you…I feel myself dying and I don’t even know what death is.
I wore the diadem as a matter of fact, my luck carved in stone- and it’s what I deserve. I am all I have- and I don’t even matter, the truth remains that I’m just not enough…that’s why I am going to the other place, where everything slips back into someone else…and I can forget everything I said when I tried to be the one who said it.
So until I get to the other place, the place where the trace of another may be, I am only barely here, holding onto something I can only imagine, somehow being without ever having… somehow myself all alone, never enough. Engulfed by a large moving figure who only shows his face in rocks at the pitch of night, me, looking back as dark as him, I become as a stone might become.
Heavy with heaviness.
Set firm in how I think this should go…. in the other place, I imagine I might be by now, I will always love you, remember, like a rock whose loves stays always the same and barely ever changes …and I will etch it across every stone I see, my solid dream of you. You don’t have to know that I’m here, deep in the clutches of a more serious earth, always waiting for you to find me. I keep saying “I do and it’s real” because you know that this echo of flesh and blood is an imminent threat that only ends one way and now that I’m almost gone I am sad that the words were never written by me, my thoughts turning over went unheard by you, the words never spoken by me to tell you why. I will find your way way through me, and me alone, as a tower being struck by you, or a searchlight you held searching for my peace, as my hand finally touching its own divine likeness…don’t think I don’t see it because I always did and I always will. You left me, forever stumbling on memories that never were, how I was killed by a great thing and thought that you did it. I will burn for you until the the end of coal. My face in yours until the end of time…
I’m as empty as God.