only love is all maroon

poetry, w, uk

[deathwxthdignity]

[deathwxthdignity]

on the sabbath day i look for you,

discerning the blank white firs, pillars to some long-dead demiurge, monolithic.

the shoulders of ancient kings looming overhead,

dappling the pavement in gilded brass,

an investable rain cutting ribbons into the worn hem of your jacket, eschatology.

baptised as we walk,

averting glances at the pantheon walls of the woods.

at your side on the deep green of the estate

i consider the privilege of worship. gospel,

singing silent praise to reflections, the yellow-golds bathing the bridge of your nose,

stained glass, sistine. the gentle red of your cheeks lit, as if from within, by some great unblinking sun.

this is where i find you now, luminous,

looking to me.

your marble hands outstretched, offering, reaching a wordless sacrifice to the god of lurid summers.

[ivyteeth]

The Earth has stopped turning for me, everything I’ve enjoyed has been gone for a week or so. I hope I find something soon. 18 days

[deathwxthdignity]

18 days

[deathwxthdignity]

you’re not here but there’s a ghost of you. i turn a corner too quickly and see your glacier eyes. vertigo. watching the rain hit the glass. thinking, always, he’d love that, he’d love that, he’d love that

[deathwxthdignity]

[deathwxthdignity]

[ivyteeth]

i’m only happy when i’m hearing you

i hope i don’t end up smothering you

[ivyteeth]

i want to take a leap of faith,

metaphorically, physically,

Into a carriage of a freight train with you

stacks, of hay and crates and you

away from everything, towards good winter

[deathwxthdignity]

somewhere in central europe there’s an art gallery waiting for you and i

a narrow alleyway we haven’t learnt yet

and a worn motel where the light never quite stops flickering, fleeting, snow

but for now i find summer solace at least to know

we sleep under the same starry night

[ivyteeth]

Future me

Vermilion hair

pearls around my neck

laser eye surgery

ink on my hands

[deathwxthdignity]

[deathwxthdignity]

[ivyteeth]

1:52am, again, not that hardcore

was it falling softly, or a blizzard ?

did the snow ruin your paper on a park bench with a scarf and coat ,

or did you have a laptop and tea looking out a shining gold window ?

we’re you lost in the snow looking for shelter ,

or just looking for the right words ?

was the boy lost, or was he the snow ?

[ivyteeth]

1:42am, not that hardcore

I can’t sleep and this going

to ruin my sleep schedule

but I’m thinking about us

in a hotel. In a perfect

world we could

communicate

through dreams,

I hope youre resting well

[deathwxthdignity]

[deathwxthdignity]

when i wake up empty,

( sometimes. all the time. )

i imagine your hand in mine.

for that perfect dawn dulled moment it’s all fine.

it’s all just fine.

/w.r.

[deathwxthdignity]

kintsukuroi,

(金繕い, きんつくろい, "golden repair"),

is the japanese art of fixing plates

using gold for what once was there.

creating a map of breakages,

finding some beauty in history.

in intricate and kindred ways

it's practical as well as philosophy.

i apply these ancient rites back down to the bone of me,

reviewing,

a rebirth of what was lost to what can surely be.

i think that's what i'm doing, in a way, i suppose;

filling the cracks, painting the gold.

bringing me back, making me whole.

/ w.r.

[deathwxthdignity]

he watched as if in expectation of something i had to give. a fruit i was sure to bear. the ease of buried treasure when you know the seeds that are there.

a bruise forming soft on the surface of a peach, wilting daffodils, the feigned enthusiasm of sour milk and hard honey. prometheus playing with ripe and ruin. succulent, a bloodflood of prosper, pine and red. bone dry river bed. prodigal daughter, valley all barren and bloody instead.

as if a tree i carve into myself. your initials inside a heart tattoo. we two in vermillion, we two in lovers coup. to expect is to desire but i desire nothing at all. watching with eager eyes the sap that is sure to fall. finding only bark and the ache of caverns amber yet to fill. desiring only nothing yet being disappointed ever still.