Occasional ruckus

Wrapped in the 21st century.
Shattering all trauma.
Which built against little empires.
Punching blindly in this fight for life.
Yet asked not to kill.

Die a little.
Crying happiness.
Lying slowly.
Counting stars.

Face first on the concrete.
Unwrapping the other side.
A tidied dream of destroying how it was.
The questions move me to new terrain.
Setting fires to light my way.

Outward ink

Where do you go, when the anger shows?
The pulsing in the veins.
Threatening to tear the skin.
Close these eyes, in need of such protection.
Blood as thick as oil, and a heart as black.
Words splinter me?
Rising my inner mercury.
My hurt vibrates to sonic sound.
Angels crying to the war in heaven.
The fury felt through a thousand decades.
Torn from the very books that celebrate such divinity.
These thoughts and callous kisses close in.
Peeling back my lips to bare these well-worn teeth.
The bones break and shift.
Ascending my temples as you try to look away.
But look deep within this life.
Into these blackening pools of my eyes.
Do any of us win?
Struck skin and nitroglycerin on the tongue.
Blossoming florets of purple that do not smell sweet.
They only anaesthetise me in an opium blur.
Sending my skull once more into the floor.

Lost illusions

Fold the world into silence.
Mute the lava that runs through our core.
Bubbling into frantic action.
When anger shows.
So many lives, repeated like a failing student.
Brought back time and again, yet never the same.
Lessons drip from these eyelids.
Lies smother the eyes of such hopeful.
Innocence trapped in ice.
Drop these illusions like a weight of the moon.
Flung out into the cosmos, only to orbit your world.
God eclipses such distant.
Love replaces the fear of the known.
Nobody knows what is yet to come.