Memory

For S

The weight of the rain cripples the name
of a person in a place
you swore never to forget or
                             let the silence
& the songs & the long moments
of hands twisting time with bodies
entwined in nights we wish would never die,
            dissapear:

yet all things must eventually fade away

but time hasn’t taken us yet & so
                            there’s no reason
to forget everything even as we
let go of what once was.

Some nights we cannot see the Moon,
but during others it’s
                       dignified light
repeats the silver nights
precluding the golden mornings
bathing, deluded
& content.

“on peut pas vivre d’amour et d’eau fraich”

Remember?

We were in the sunlight

& then when
            I awoke
the morning light made me choke as
I remembered
how the gentle susurration blended
with the birdsong & the light
curved like the branches above us
to touch.
        briefly,
skin within which poison blends with pollen
& flowers blossom before I pluck them
to place in your hair where
they will wither & die.

The past still lingers in the present,
& refuses to die with the grace
of living things.

Is this why I regret everything?

Suppose

Surprise surprise,
                what’s the price?

Suppose you lied, suppose
the scars bring you pride
because they display your fight against life

            &,

since there’s no shadow without light,
no death without life,
you fought life & death &
                            you survived.

Suppose, suppose you
            posed like

the question came as a surprise – why
not try to act like you don’t know
what made you
strip naked & run screaming
into the abandoned building
licking flakes of old paint from walls bleeding cold
skin:
    petals on the floor lost to rot
            decaying fray-
                              ing & ignored, what
does the paint taste like, why
did you decide to stop when
the dirt-black sky
ran to hide from the bleeding sun that never dies?

Suppose,
suppose you only wanted to try & fall

suppose that you never meant it at all.

Anamnesis

So many rooms in so many houses;
spaces within which the walls have waited,
        unseeing,
                uncaring,
as I played various roles
in minor dramas, some
of my own devising,
                some not,
        & most
being incomplete.

So many days wanting to stay away
from this mess, this reluctance;
                the daydream
of purposeful action
abandoning us with
                every movement
around the Sun.

The fragility of
                everything;
inevitable entropy
& we,
                the animals
that will not be themselves,
capable of knowing all this
wait
while words emerge to seek
a story worthy of acknowledging
                    that beneath
every surface
something waits
to be
            misunderstood.

Either serendipitous or fucked up:

The choice is yours.

The choice is mine,
           
            & I
                    can’t decide…

“Everything I love will die / in due time”*

Nothing left but the wet
decaying process
of repetition,
                not you
but something else;
unheimlich; the body
rigid
though not yet cold;

failing to feel the ground
beneath my feet
                trembling;
I leave the room
to try & force my fists & skull
                through a wall.

Sometimes I forget that you’re gone.

Sometimes I hate you for leaving,

but as you told me “c’est la vie:
la tristesse sera fini bientôt,

mais je suis désolé mon enfant.”

Sometimes I forget your face & panic.

Sometimes I take solace knowing
that now you’re nothing

& sometimes I can’t stand it.

My greatest regret will forever be
not being there to see
                your final breath.

                            &
what I whispered to you when
                all energy had left
will remain a secret
I will keep forever…

* Iron Chic – Know What I Mean, Jellybean