Knowledge is not sufficient for commitment
wisdom and indecision questing to win
this mind find it indifferent when all I
can think of now is just how much wanting you
occupies my thoughts, a love song not my style
not what interests me when writing, no such
thing as constant passion, but when I’m silent
my mouth drowns in seven unspoken requests.
One night, two broken pieces will fit again
fight against those inhibitions and bullshit
talking heads spout, Rand-some fountains spit, and truth
will prove enough of an excuse to exist
and live again, those splinters mirrors resent
those slivers of memory fortunate each
to have been seen and beaten and shattered by
powers beyond the reach of our vanity.
All of this puts me in quite a position
searching and measuring the distance exile
wedges between us in those moments language
abandons my lips, when the past makes demands
of the present, asking me why I haven’t
yet vanquished the hydra in my bed, severed
its relentless necks with kisses reserved for
mythic trysts, hushed conquests of no consequence.
Love is a temple trembling when I walk in
a loaded gun partly irresponsible
wholly ghost, a triangle I tempt when I
spend my nights buying sin, going all in on
secrets no one keeps, seeking warmth where shadows
steal from embraces their thrill, flesh growing cold
when dawn’s fingers rip from second lives their cloaks
when second sight prophesies what my heart doubts.
Anger, as if heaven-sent, fire on the tongue
asking with clenched fists, if you’re the one then why
can’t I open up, this monument of mine
this interior life a broken spirit
hides behind a chain-link fence, on towering
bookshelves crowded with pirated editions
of my other Selves, each volume a basket-
case filled with emptiness, madness your calm cures.