Friday, September 4, 2009

Perpetual Motion

It's supposed to hurt. Yes. That much. This is Disneyland for the consciousness. Villains and all. You don't get to just wake up. You have to survive the nightmare. Learn the math. Skin plus skin is an atrocious sum. You don't see god. You just see am excuse. To stay the same.

The zipper on her lips coming undone. In a flourish of blood. Each word wounded. And every bandage too thin. As she tries herself on once again. With Lucifer in her pocket. And Jesus in her fist. She talks in minus and listens in division.

Solving quickly for x. Selling off her gods for the comfort of demons.

God comes in snapshots. Pictures process the flesh. Empty pens stab the blankness. Crippled gods on their last confession. Admit we are nothing. Salvation suffers through the pasteurization of skin. It's too hot in heaven to die. It's too cold in this world to live.

I dream of Beethoven. I wake up deaf. I can't hear god. But I can read his lips.

2 comments:

  1. "pictures process the flesh"

    perfect line here... thanks for this...

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  2. interesting. not my favorite part of the piece. but cool to hear your perspective.

    i usually, as in this case, like the endings best. that's probably my biggest flaw.

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