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Wednesday, March 17, 2010

bottoming source

the pain of waking from sleep not slept
to the everyday world from the dreams of everyday dreams
i am beset with actions responsibilities pain for my decisions
where is there a moments relief
not from my love who shirks me
not from my children who wander
not from my wife who despises what i have done
i look within and the cauldron of my soul boils unending and with fever
i am wholly made of cloth and the sticks of mens frailties
am i cast into molds of others and hardened on the rocks of despair yet again
i love and there is a chasm i ask and there is not even an echo
i cry and there is rain everywhere i go
what manner of beast is come from the south
following seas and blowing horns of coming armies of the delivered
and west to the end of mans kingly reign
the east is filled with the menace of awareness and lost mastery
only the north remains cold and filled with lights unknown
where is there a deep hole or empty place in the sky where light can follow
the simple arithmetic calculates the hearts passage and even now
the cup is less full than before
the life is draining into the bottomless well
and souls divine and profane pump from its bottoming source
i wash my ankles in blood and step through the doorways of my ancient masters
there are no stars and familiarity is gone
where there were faces now there are long openings into shadows that should be lit
i force my way through walls of treasure and circumstances of design
and wait at the end of the tunnel where vanity ends
and the emptiness beckons
what was light is now flowing rivers of matters destruction
where passage and movement now there is a sinking feeling in all directions
the curses i utter are gleefully repeated from my mouths set to every side
i stumble forward and go through myself and emerge holding a spleen
i am undone in ways i never knew without matter or function
the passage is filled with eyes and fingers each watching the other remove another organ or tissue as if sampling the very fundamental structure of my existence
what of my thoughts i realize as they too are sucked as if by straws from mouths neatly pursed and drawing
the last memory was for my wasted efforts to make sense of this travesty of judgement
and the knowing that it would not change anything
i evaporate and cling to free falling fear empty of mindless thought
i plunge unknown alone and find there is no other or place i can touch
i am frozen and suddenly unaware
i wait
for a sound
a thought
a thing
not of myself
and never

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