Cleaning makes me hungry Cleaning gives me clarity Sweeping makes me hungry as I sweep away old thoughts Dusting makes me hungry as I drift of to lavender fields and jasmine scented evenings Wiping makes me hungry as I cleanse old stains, leaving behind the scent of bleach Mopping makes me hungry as dirt clears, as thoughts clear, as day dreams burst into life, Cleaning makes me hungry. On clear sides with clean plates, a clean knife and a clean floor, I make a banana sandwich to sate my hunger… Cleaning leaves me exhausted The sandwich goes uneaten.
I am lost in days silent retreat, as Helios stands guard of vast raging skies as evening draws, and he bids goodbye. My soul transcends in the way his Amber kisses traverse the colossal void of existence, crimson echoes of light skipping over atoms, submerging Gaia in vivid hues of love, the serenity of eve’s glow, each pocket of colour a prayer whispered into closed palms, screamed to the heavens, spoken into the tangled strands of a love-one’s hair as Helios bids us goodnight till morn and Selene stirs stifling a yawn and we sit momentarily still paused by the beauty of our creator, be him a he, a her, a deity, a God or god a messiah or Angel… In that moment between dusk and twilight we find them in our prayers In return, they give to us a sun and moon a reason to pause us there.
Stained threads of purpose, clambering the ladder, stepping stones of succession, A charlatans profession. My personal preference is to Be forgotten, I am no man’s stepping stone, no check list item on the road, falsities are for another, so let’s not pretend, bridges burned to the very end. Bridges burned to the very end.
I would give my last, my first, my every wish to take back every tear that fell and every tear that falls. I’d place each one delicately into a jar wrapped in pink gingham blessed in rose quartz and place it at my bedside…I’d take us back to our blank canvas when days crashed and we existed from no where. Instead of greeting you with welcome I’d whisper, ‘its you’ for isn’t that exactly what my soul screamed? I never knew seconds could weigh so much and miles could seem so vast. I’d not wait this time, I’d hand you my locked chest over spilling with the torn fragments of me, and leave you to finger through at your leisure the dark shadows, sharp edges and etched scars. I’d beg you do the same. I’d unpack the monsters of your past, caress them into life, embrace their darkness and kiss away their fears. I’d give my last, my first, my every wish to wipe clean the pain I caused, I’d replace each tear with a kiss, each rip with fingers, each dark thought with knowing eyes that tell you second after minute after hour after day… I am in love with you, you are the cause of my beating heart, the flames igniting my spirit, you are the whisper I hear skipping across moon beams, you are the stars in my dark, you are my dark, my light, my source, my love, eternal.
He stroked tangles into her once luscious mane,
and peppered it in the muted hues of time.
He smoothed the years across her brow
and etched his hate
within her blunt laughter lines.
He left a thesis of his dysfunction written between the grains of her invalid groin
and ringed the spoils of her scars in red ink.
He left her skin bare of kisses, of love,
of exploration or pleasure
he tamed the primal beast
he groomed her into silence
then gave her a mirror