And with bending,
twisting,
lusting in the daydreams,
I let out an
audible sigh,
to myself,
and jumped back,
witch sister chorus,
amen,
I hear you,
the chains
that hold you,
know my
love,
they never win,
tis just fear-
masked clowns,
shouting distractions and
weather patterns
that woke
the dead
in their graves,
in my walls,
in the body bags
that drifted
back home,
on a silent
screaming softly
salty sea.
I always thought
up things,
silliness to make
you laugh,
see that twinkle
in your eye,
one day,
without so many
tears falling,
making the rivers,
the streams,
the ponds found in
my memory,
when life was better
because my dad was round,
to help me learn,
and fight the demons back
to hell,
their belongings left in the room
down the hallway
from mine,
with the raped closet and the
golden faucets,
attached to the bathroom,
that shuttered at the sight.
Heaven now seemed even
farther way,
busy dial tones,
so I sit with
painted swords,
spilled on the carpet,
orchestrating murals
of movement,
show a little
goddamn kindness,
for once,
reach out your
third eye,
singing notes
high and mighty,
see your worth,
please,
one minute,
before I go.
Ah,
and heres to
the chaos,
the middle fingered ladies
with their trumpet swans
sizzlings,
withered and wasted,
natural and sentiment,
blessed and holy,
ecstasy and verboseness,
the resonance of truth
as it bangs up against the
ear drums,
the vibration of the earth.
And cheers,
to the life lived,
not years spent
hating yourself,
oh angels in the nighttime,
cant you hear
the witchdoctor lovers
whispering in your sleep,
tantric healings,
serpentine tree odes,
magicians sipping
ghost accessories,
hairpins and mad hatters
of all varieties.
You are lovely,
and safe,
not alone at all,
my dear,
very so oh very
muchly and kind
and with heaping,
rising passion,
together,
connected to the ocean
that loves you.
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