(no subject)
As usual a poem not about me, but my sadness that helped me write it.
The way we seek to rectify ourselves
Make whole the pieces stolen from us
An overflowing cup in one hand
Sanguine in the other
These murky deals that bind us
Hands bound to wooden posts
Heads sunk into soft regrets
Drink of our festering wounds
We make our mark of courage
Out of precipitate want
Desire weeps from the pores
Reflection of myself
Reflection of my other
Sanguine seeping through my grasp
A piece of overripe fruit
Withered and rotting on the table
My soul is this careless crop
Corporeal form and removed from spirit
I will console myself through dreary desperate illusions
Passionate yet numbed and cheap
As one sharp moment
Perspiring, evaporating off my thighs
Reflection of myself
Rent on a whim, then passed from hand to hand
No glory in this revenue
We spill our cups ’til empty
And mine no different
Its frothy bubbles burst on impact
Spreading high enough to close my lungs
Fill the spaces that give life
I persist only in your image
I am selfish in this regard
Inflicting that which commanded me
Objectified, impersonal
A simplified tone once a Mozart harmony
Sanguine notes floundering
The way we seek to rectify ourselves
Make whole the pieces stolen from us
An overflowing cup in one hand
Sanguine in the other
These murky deals that bind us
Hands bound to wooden posts
Heads sunk into soft regrets
Drink of our festering wounds
We make our mark of courage
Out of precipitate want
Desire weeps from the pores
Reflection of myself
Reflection of my other
Sanguine seeping through my grasp
A piece of overripe fruit
Withered and rotting on the table
My soul is this careless crop
Corporeal form and removed from spirit
I will console myself through dreary desperate illusions
Passionate yet numbed and cheap
As one sharp moment
Perspiring, evaporating off my thighs
Reflection of myself
Rent on a whim, then passed from hand to hand
No glory in this revenue
We spill our cups ’til empty
And mine no different
Its frothy bubbles burst on impact
Spreading high enough to close my lungs
Fill the spaces that give life
I persist only in your image
I am selfish in this regard
Inflicting that which commanded me
Objectified, impersonal
A simplified tone once a Mozart harmony
Sanguine notes floundering