What inexorable woe
Is the lonely heart
That weighs upon the lonely mind.
Worse still when affection's
Direction
Is
A
Stone
Wall.
I have banged my head
Against that wall
And now the noise
Of my rattling
Frazzled brain
Would overpower
The woe of the heart
Though they sing in
Concert.
This corpse of a burdened soul
Seeks the warmth of the sun
Born and bathed in love.
But want and desire
So strong
Have left me numb
Dried and cracked
As the Santa Ana's blow
Parches all hope;
And assaulted by longing
Confused by the
Scattered sky;
Domed and empty.
But there is no sun
And the stone wall
And squalid corpse
Left now desiccated
Arcs where the sky should be.
Oh that this shell would crack,
That the loneliness
Would shatter 'neath
The reflection
Of
Another's
Affection.
That the light would pour through
The cracks
Coating me in the
Warm viscosity
Of a broken yolk
Bathing me in love
Freeing me
From the stone shackles
The unrequited sandstorm
Carved for itself.
Sometimes I thing I have forgotten how
That the tepid residue
Of the Last Great Love
Is a false expectation
Faded
Remembered brighter
Like a starving man
And a broken plate
Where the traces of breakfast
Yet remain.
Have I stared too long?
Is the afterimage too bright
To see if the wall is gone?
Have I dodged the light
Thinking it but an echo
Of my screams
Reverberating on the inside?
Or have I dried even further
Turning that brittle enamel
Into a marble tomb
That glows only on the outside
Reflecting away such love
As would cook a better
Breakfast.
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