literature

the nameless project3

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Literature Text

13th chorus

we played strip-poker hand by
hand and in that nervous light
our clothes fell
her eyes    
                 fell

into a healthy glimpse
of just how ugly I was;

'cause there are scars
behind my pretty poems

and a heart with muscle-
memory, beating the cadence
to which dying-soldiers march.

draped in cardio-
vascular bandaids
I taste-test every apple
to make sure it isn't poison

                 but she bit
just to bite.


14th chorus

she wanted static-
cling and firework dreams
but I was flesh
and bone
and getting used to
alone

and as I pulled her perfectly-
pale frame on top of me

her eyes took the glow from mine
between gasps; a tear (of purely
misguided moisture)rolled south

and she cried
while my tear-ducts
heaved spirits
from a well
that went dry
years ago.

15th chorus

there is a feeling to fail

there is a feeling to study the floor
there is a feeling to see ugly in the mirror
there is a feeling to see it smiling

there is a feeling to digest shivers
as arm hairs raise
in the company of spirits
that only watch.

there is a feeling
that washes over you
when an angel cries
and you realize
one tear is enough
to drown you

16th chorus

there is a feeling
to hold out
for a miracle
that blows up
in your face.

there is a feeling
to see the stars up close
and know you weren't meant
to be that high.

there is a feeling
to sit alone
in a dank motel room
listening
           to traffic pass
and helicopters whirl
knowing
something died
and unsure
of what it was.

17th chorus

I'd have her know
that the difference
between
         an expensive mistake
and a valuable
lesson

is not in that
busty heart
of hers

or in that butterfly nest
she called a gut

or in the gears
always turning
behind her
beautiful
face,

but in the soul
those
stained church-
glass eyes
have shown
(me)
silhouettes of.

18th chorus

Neruda,
you fucking sap,
       I could really use
your help right now.

I trusted my gut
until it was coerced
to lie
      by the bias
of bloated butterflies
and my heart has too low
of an IQ
to make up
                   my mind.

you've left us
with an ideology of
                                love
               that no one
can live up to;

'cause stars
will see
the headlights
of cars

yet
such two lights
may never
share
      a single shine.


19th chorus

something tells me
you found that love
and took it with you

and hid it in the clouds
carved by airplanes
and left to lay
beneath
orion

or sold it
to Van Gogh
for his other ear
and a few
good paintings.


or traded it
to Einstein
for the square-
root of infinity

so he could
then devise
           equations
in which two whole numbers
could reach
their local maximum
as an ordered pair
and never
diverge.

damn you Pablo,
something tells me
you found that love

and took it
with you.
this is part 3

check out part1 [ here. ]
and part2 [ here. ]
© 2009 - 2024 oldest-boy
Comments58
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ShadowedAcolyte's avatar
There's a lot that's good here--calling out to Neruda, "just to bite", the entire 19th bit--but there's a lot that's not, that's just filler in between the good stuff. As with many of your works, I feel like raking it over and trimming away the chaff would produce something as true and as honest and much, much, much more intense.