I have found those in this life who matter most
and divided my heart accordingly
portioned out
now therefore the best men
by the end will have very little heart left to give
and He will have to be enough
for us both
-
no one wants to…
no one wants to be in this body.. no one meant to live this way..
all we have is the shrapnel.. -
it lingers on. …
it lingers on.
I hate my heart. -
On a string,
the very string, which us together bound
holds me now
irritating flesh;
my feet up off the ground.this is the catch: that love is a rope
and away from hands
it moves up the metaphysical
up to the throat; ..no one now
wants to be up on a string..
so once this rash wears
I’ll forget what it was.. it
was.. was… godwhatwasthatthing… -
you cannot reso…
you cannot resolve. as I have resolved. I cannot bare another claim against me. my bones will be weeds
when my body tells the earth “I
have come back…”it is liken to the day I envisioned her face
looking back deeply at me;
us both stretched on some hospital beds and we will know then that we tried
to ready our bodies for Unnatural light..
she will know then that she has tried, and I will say “for sure you have tried…”
and in her last breath she will breathe out that she always intended to
have come back…I swear our bodies have been undone from the same tie
the same twist of skin all bodies are molded in
the Architect’s bin of bones and minds and souls
our two were one but as He spread out the meekest shell of a modest man
the Spirit thought to split the one up even less
now the two bodies wear two separate souls… wondering when each will be modest enough a one
to find themselves a way to share what little is left of oneself… lo, the Lord has done this thing; not that we should find new bodies to wear when we love…
but to be.. and to let un-molded bodies re-meet … -
Hearing
The future cannot know
a language to speak back at us
but the past echos on
clear to this daysuch is how His voice
(coming from beyond any time)
speaks a language none could know
until first the diction
the past unclothe -
Who knew
Remember when I told you i felt like my life was about to crumble.. and you said you’d be there, and that together we’d pass through it…
… who knew
-
if I was convin…
if I was convinced you loved him
if I was convinced he was a better fit
I would have muscled
been my age
walked away…
you can’t explain what you see
I can’t explain anything… I know so much of what it is not
that I’m left convinced of what it is..
I don’t mean to not be trusting but, I want to be best for you. God knows. but.. I think we’ve both been lied to.. saying that we can’t be
the best thing..
I for one, immediately found myself self-mutilating; watched you start running.. and I’m thinking now.. if you were to read this now. it would piss you off but… well. I guess that means I should stop -
What does it lo…
What does it look like
this time to love
of course I want the best for us both
but who could know it
the best is a flaw in every design
it surrounds intentions
and stitches itself thoroughly into
every color lit up
over the misogynist’s quilt;
looking like a mere misanthrope with no home..I have to be sweet now
turn over every mans stable-switch
stand up to my age…
outweigh the anxious pain
burning from my pit, catching the tonsils
and smoking black my tongue..
so now when I try to speak
the same perfect words;
out comes the charred remains of some misanthrope
looking like there was good intent
masking the misogynist in me… butwith the light of intent faded
I swear what remains is a genuinely angry
lover. Jealously in love. stitched
to every breath someone else might be seeing
not knowing the sight
is a young heart searching
and dear God I hope she finds me… -
Reassemble the …
Reassemble the pieces…
we had a memory of the morning
talked of cabin homes and mountain sides
we wore the skin of love
all our faces wore it tooundying, unending, unadulterated,
without measure and without condition
worded right off our tongues..but now how can I bury the planets?
can the dead now bury the dead?I wish the art could eat up the bones..
she now is a body of lies
stitched up with contempt
built up in my blood
given eyes again to see for herself
the ogre of I
whose hands slaved to save
the girl who would run at the sight of my head undone and shaky fingertips
which slaved to stitch up the both of us..now in her health, she has gained the mind to see the disaster of me..
nathanael.ink 