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Cupido

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  • Cupido

    Sometimes, we're so unfree in our feeling, the heart so disconnected, that an anti-verse emerges wherein we might actually at times wish ill on another, if only because we cannot bear the reality and so enact our own ploys, subscriptive, and we are at the mercy of our own innate understanding... so cut off. We can only worship an image of the truth, when we are at odds with ourself. The living expanses where the metals are cast house the world of non-human activity. Reflecting the matter which drives all insane. This is Unity from a peculiar separation; mystery which redoubles and is stacked in the blocks of futures missed. Shrouding the love, the time, the eyes and watches, a curse of no return, eternal repetition of a cold story, wherein the pages won't turn. Glued together, this portion of a star's mask, showing the tattered edges. The blot we understand less and less usurps, and overtakes. We learned how to identify and hate ignorance, a dagger-bouquet, and a smiling dinner. The subdued lighting and soft music drowns reality in a cup, as I can hear it coming from all sides. That voice i can hear telling lies. You'll live forever like this, because of me. With the stain of honey on his lips. You can see he's holding what he won't let be taken. It's as soft as the raindrops breaking. Slow as a sewer fills up. Houses vacant, made-up girls, women, wet pavement, bikes slicing through puddles, a big sky reflected. I can smell the trees, and the honeysuckle lingering as i walk by. The signs all look faded, the woodgrain dark with moisture, and the grass lays extra green before me (but I'm on the sidewalk). In the distance, stars battle train whistles, and the cold, for my attention, for the meager coin. Awareness. It's love, blushing, sitting in the flames. What is on fire is myself. These are my pieces that float in thin air, remembered, undisplaced. Fire against my wishes, strong. The spirit of Havoc, asleep. Wrought in living chains which know well this flesh, each bruise, every scar and wrinkle there. This is the Sleeping one. Brought back to us. We are afraid of you, we know your terrible name not to be pronounced. It is beset between our lips as we smile, and go to kiss. It's the pain which separates us, the timestamp of an unmoving, colorless, broken clock. The house moves around me. I take it all with me when I'm gone: my body, perfection, my being unlimited. i take stock in how my knowing has hung me an effigy. The glyph of consciousness lags, and I wonder at simple things; like pain, nerves, the weather outside, banana trees, spirits of the living and the dead, pictures taken of ghosts. I thought it funny, i wasn't affecting this want to hide; but how else shall i move, where else would i go? O the map is only closed off in three directions. While we hunt down this creature we couldn't even dream of understanding, as it cries, bleeding tears of hot pain that anoints our heads. Dripping from an eternally gaping wound, down, down.

    This love shot with an arrow can almost make a sound now.
    Last edited by amenOra; 02-06-2019, 11:20 PM.

  • #2
    Written not of this world. they that not weep feel nothing of life or love or lose. I felt everything in this and to smile is a miracle

    Comment


    • amenOra
      amenOra commented
      Editing a comment
      Well I tend to cry lots every day lately, I don't quite mind, I like the release of stress... Thanks for the comment, I appreciate it. Hope you're doing well, and the writing continues to flow. Peace and love, friend.
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