controller
you swallowed me into void,
the arms of black loneliness
circled me like vultures before
they devoured what was left
of me; I let them rip the fissures
of moon silver clean off the
bone, I could not force myself
to care until I saw her osculation —
against your own lips, I claimed
the birds of prey for my own;
I fashioned myself wings of black —
when you least expected it, I pecked
your eyes out piece by piece simply
to ensure you that I was the master,
and you had never controlled me.
you’re a boat
lovely face it is a
boat drifting out to
sea, gliding across
the water as graceful
as a swan; pirouetting
against a landscape
of melancholy, the
topography of your
lips pierces the white
of snow with a snatch
of crimson feathers, a
cardinal to rescue us
from the trite scene of
rolling white thundering
across the hills; I don’t
think I've ever loved
you more than I do now.
uncle jimmy
the moon is grey as your eyes and as
fractured as your yellowing bones;
I see you in every silver rain and every
melancholy grey day, I miss you when
I read Catcher in the Rye and wonder
why you liked it; I could never relate
to Holden, I’ve known the sting of
isolation and I’ve been the outcast for
several years and many moons, but I
still couldn’t understand the fascination —
you used to paint and I envy that, your
skill was extraordinary; I couldn’t do
the wondrous things you did with a paint
brush to save my life, but though we
used different mediums we’re both artists —
I wish I could make you proud, I wish
you could see my words; I wish that
you could be revived from death somehow
just so you could spend more day on this
earth with us, it seems unreal that twelve
spans of three hundred and sixty five have
already passed like you have; it seems
that you’ve been gone far too long.
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