rider-on-the-storm

I have long lived dark the flow a humble ancient of sorrow. the shadows behold my agonies, manifold by this willful wound that bloom like marigolds. be now swept utterly anchored by this howling force, you are kept. listless abode in obscure prominence entombed by the void bestowed. credence; the past is permanent-- a doleful figure among the nothingness bemoans.

My muse- as I delve in the depths of reflection this cold morning walk home, the weight of your words fix heavily into my heart. Every letter digs itself deeper, trying to find     a grave fit for their company- Every end of sentence sticks itself into my flesh, though sad I become, it is preferable to breathe the sorrow than to feel nothing between us, at all.

When the stunning mirage of your smile takes ceremony on the mind, it becomes especially difficult in remembering to breathe.

I slipped into reverie at all the possibilities that red-letter night I shuddered disorderly, as honesty fell from our lips like secrets     now rest by our feet; And within your kiss I found a warmth which put my lonely, frantic heart     at ease. I want to celebrate you- You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.

They were absent as God that night which allowed a lot of candor to be untethered. Our gaze was lavender in the haze of anticipation, in the heat of your disheveled room we play around topics like the nervous, shaky lights     dancing outside your window. This furious lust, hungry like vultures; Even the stars witness and blush at our desire and construct constellations, as if required, in our mess.

With this bottle of bourbon I devote the hour to my self-destruction; Cheers to all the hells I encounter regularly- To the blaring march of my own, waning mortality- The sober contrary leaves me despairing in the cool moonlight, so lost inside some existential hypothetical I begin to doubt what's true And flounder helplessly In the silent capture of my composure.

I feel lost but all is fine, my concerns multiply on a speculative line my mind won't quit. Lately, I am miserable at best- Sipping on the past I remember how happy I felt when I was with you          And I hurt.

Blow after blow our confusing, furtive scenario kills me a little more. With my face wet on the floor;            in spite, i persist            that i don’t care anymore i don’t care anymore i don’t care anymore i don’t care i don’t.

     Proof there was something here; In my darkest hour, your relaxed voice rebelled against the rage rumbling behind my eyes- The void I've subscribed Holds my hand tight Through my sufferings And with pleasure reminds me-     The promises we keep     don’t make any sense to us, at all.

I toast to chaos, this remarkable night and welcome the new year with a personal abandon;        eyes are quiet        under neon light,        inescapably absorbed        in the mystery of you-                 ready to drown                 any discretion away                 with your kiss                 and reclaim some hope coinciding                 within this splintered heart.

pure dead night, drumming soft upon eyelids; calm mist connections spread thin. bright feelings slow swim between gazes, all follow when summoned in this haze; patience and passion contend.

moon spirit, given up rocks, sun, reflected sadness cratered onto the face(of god, or some like concept) no longer able to carry the weight of oceans, to lift the deep dark burden of night so we may rest in our own shadow and what are we now, alone?

the beginning is like ending: a forward run 'round the same spaces as before as spaces before now seem same as the runaround, and end like they began these circles don't stop halfway in the moment always stuck reliving mistakes, some not yet even made shaking snowglobe futures and pondering the past discarded with every flick and tremor full erasure- whiteboard, wiped clean but an after image seen in negative space how all this happened, and happening still but only barely felt and what if

α. leak me out to die, i'm risk and riddle untamed. i'll beg olympus' asterisk. β. wilderness inside a riot of clavicles. look here, mars is sleeping. head over healing, we toil. γ. praising the fumes of jupiter's wick and calling out the names of lost gods. when the heavens are closed, they're fucked. δ. leagues beneath gaea's shape, drowning in her pleasure. when she shakes entire civilizations come. ε. wilting at the waist, i've been tightening the belt of orion as my heart sinks. reckless. ζ. after death all sins become immortal.

I am ten rem tea leaves, silt and sum, beaten sun round and heavy on the shoulders breathing in the extract, melatonin and c bolted to bonebrew there are galaxy fools dancing in solar winds, searching for a cool breeze or a higher high and I am one of those, too living like it isn’t meant to be more than basic chemical and non-sentient plant matter, maybe but definitely not this, not us our decadent decay, our glorious self- exaltive state and the lie that time is narrow, defined or can be tamed by any ideagogue, army or lucent object in a distant sky

calm the paling iris blue limbic closed system captioned by a stranger version of yourself, one detached one rather detached from the notion of connecting lines between dots, lips to skin in this narrative I am stormsurged waiting for the touch to come to color, the wasteland everywhere I look disintegrated in choppy waves of static tsunami rushing over edges of whatever lifeboats we sent out in the night and now we're living anxious in impatient, makeshift mudtack houses, lack of purpose showing in the bottles collected on the floor; we found no messages inside.

whiskey is thinning out my blood, so it can trickle all through the veins between heart and brain; I'm gathering my mischief neatly in a box, retreating into old patterns of receding self and disappearing disappearing into black stairs in the dead of night, chasing blindly through twists and turns to find the part you kept from me when worse words crept into my throat than I wanted to say to you and when I disappear, completely beyond the edge of the small, visible bubble of light that surrounds you I know you won't be lonely, won't worry that I'll be somewhere ripping band-aids off of wounds wound between the echoes of your