would be that i knew she couldn’t save me,
but hate me, destroy me, splay me open, crush me, display me, hate me, destroy me
i know now no Her can save me.
she’s sitting in neon dark night red lights
(they glow with inner filament clatter, and cackle, and devil dance, demon chatter.)
sit to feel betrayed and arrayed in cold loneliness
i grow out from the cold ground
a child of dust.
(je sors de la poussière, à la poussière je reviendrai.)
where but skylord turn when the utter infinite weary emptiness returns
and death waits patiently without salvation
if there can be any
for the cruel or the meek
she stands in dark night neon glow red lights, by the wayside.
though turned aside still my care follows, and my heart burns like murder-ice.
can’t believe nor deny i’m still alive- to think what lays left to be fought!
sleeping dog lies, you lie here all alone, but don’t always believe your own lies.
—
worshipful wilderness! salvation of man
the shadow stretches long on the road
weary dreamer, secret keeper, the fire is in hand
but used for light it won’t scold
one drop water, supplicate
till the old morning reaper
causes it to start all again
sun high
like one minute
from midday
midnight
and i’m still alive
freakishly
peeking over hedge
and making my bets
trust no one.