Tuesday, November 24, 2015


It is times like this
the frost of the night
dividing ourselves into constituents

like leaders to their realms,
men to their batteries,
regents to their thrones,

like these moments where our realities separate us
for I am getting older and resistant to nostalgia
I yearn for you at my side
As a Hera to my Zeus, as Persephone to my Hades
-and all of the mortal spaces between
I wish to rule this land. I wish to pioneer into all of its unknown places
And I shall need the help of hands I trust.
One such as yourself.
Of my realm It is manifestation without focus
The textures of my landscapes are boundless
In heart and implication I reach so deeply
Through the many dimensions not everyone can feel
& I have none to share this with
My world is very loud

And I have had to learn
that the worlds of others
tend to be much quieter.

but I am tired, and getting older, and in you I feel something
it does not make me any younger,
but perhaps a bit more ageless
more classic and heartfelt
our beast—
subtle and strong
ripe with the vehement strife
ravenous, with an appetite to rival hundreds of years of violence and assimilation
hungry for the taste of flesh
enduring as Datura lusting beneath thunderheads
nuanced as mesquite chattering in the wind
in all of the dreamscapes I have
you are always there in my most prescient

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