Love Is Really Just Kreb’s Cycle Suckage Or Maybe I Just Had Too Much Coffee Today: NaPoWriMo (Day 30 – Recurrences)

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I am feeling combative lately
Yet simultaneously worn from battle fatigue

This mental and physical
self-flagellation is subtle
hidden from prying eyes and barbed tongues
that explode with their riddled tripwire
of bee stung words

Outfoxing outmoded methods of lie detection
my own tongue wrapped by a vermilion veil
of bridal-laced angst and greed
Miss Havisham’s mummified
menstrual blood bleeding allover me

While the guts of me are glutinously twined
wresting the very crux of resistance
and existence’s meaningless musings
from my tattletale heart & adamantine-coated spine

I wield hammer, anvil and tongs, the way some
women carry corsages of daisies and forget-me-nots

With no visible welts screeching their angry songs
Nor stalwart scars to prove the battlegrounds
were fought & won, I fool everyone, especially myself.
If you can’t fool yourself, you’ll never fool anyone else…

But I get ravenously hungry after the long desert run
Starving myself in morbid and unholy expiation
my scarlet-lettered nun hiking up her habit’s skirt
of abandon, keeping from the virtual oasis sought
along the daemon-ridden roads to fiberoptic heaven.

And we all must eat sometime,
even we martyrs to nuptial altars
then I begin the feasting
until I become revoltingly full
after swallowing cyberspace whole
until I’m retching and collapsing

Into the pile of human rubble that I truly am.

And not all the king’s horses, nor all the king’s men
could ever pick up the fragmented pieces
to put me together again
because I refuse to admit
how many bits of me
have been scattered and cast to the four winds.

Still, the attempted annihilation is never complete
Nothing ever is…

Even as I pretend to strive for perfection
I sabotage each effort with a coup d’etat
This self-insurgency often leaving me
wallowing in the murky mire of self-pity

Though, honestly,
it’s really nothing more
than job security…

A seeker must seek,
and once she has found
what she sought
only to discover
it was all for naught
then she must bring down the walls of Jericho, no?

If only to fill a few hours of delightful woe
Or let the ennui ring supreme

I am full of myself
but it is a zero-sum effect
another ace served in the null set

The singularity that is me
so longing for release of
the cataclysmic event
beyond time’s horizon

The igneous burst of Gamma’s flaming rays…

The quiring stars
The lilting moon
The sun’s spiral serenade to a restless galaxy
The awe-filled tribute to that thingless thing

Yet to be…

Come

Become

One
with THE one…

(whomever or whatever that might be…)

But the being and the becoming struggle again
and the search continues,
It’s like trying to grab smoke
with your hands
or taste the sunshine

Gone, gone, gone
All gone

(Maybe I need Orgone?)

So I fall in love with reflection’s shadows
who whisper their secrets
in spoken runes
and cipher’s sighs

The white hot intensity
of this dire Desire
shines on them like a beacon
the revealing sends them
running from themselves

Blinded by
and
Away from me

Away from the stark spotlight
of my solar-flare’s gaze…

Leaving me alone in the Light

Light/Dark
Day/Night
Comedy/Tragedy

Flipsides of that one proverbial coin
Tossed by a cavalier Fate

I become everything to them
Until I am reduced to nothing
But a vapor of velvet
An evanescence, sizzling and savored
For a blink of the millennial eye
Until my carbon pop is reduced to
A noxious emission that must be
Scourged and purged

And then?

The cycle begins once again…

 

 

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9 Comments Add yours

  1. Extremely well written and I absolutely loved this!

    1. ccthinks says:

      Thank you so much, Soul Structured! I’m so glad you enjoyed it. xox

  2. Irene says:

    Wow! Just wow!

    1. ccthinks says:

      You sweet thing, thanks for coming on the blog! <3333

  3. That’s extremely gracefully voiced despair.

    1. ccthinks says:

      Thank you so much, Angela. Just so you know, this is just a bit of gothic grotesquery. Rococo madness. Exaggerated emocam view. Me exploring my emotional Gaudi, but unlike Gaudi’s structures this doesn’t house anything real. xoxo

      1. It can be really relaxing to visit dark places when you get to go there voluntarily.

        1. ccthinks says:

          Agreed. I have been in this place before, and it is far better (and, yes, oddly soothing – cathartic, I suppose) to visit it as a tourist, than to reside in it.

        2. Exactly. It’s safe when you choose to go there and you have (some) control. I remember my first dark poems were a total relief, almost like getting to know a new side of myself. There was permission, finally, for that part to be there.

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