Churning Cross

When the throat is straitened 

and each weeze a corrosive churn.

My eyelashes become mallets 

Pegging my sight down.

In ground.

Every raspy word lifts

Like steam in your cauldron 

Boiling and reacting and

Unhurting

The only way we can to ourselves.
We’ll collect the remains 

And archive the strains

But my mind will forget

As my body witholds.
And my brain will smile

At new seasons

And trends.

Forget the old, forget the current.

The future is definite so hold it 

Precious.

Even though my breath can’t catch

Up. And I’ll still lie.

I’ll still lie.

I’ll still lie.

Pushing Decades

Reaching the quarter.

The century references dig 

in its depth is death.

No lights and abundance 

of noise.

We reached a pair of decades and

rushed for more.

Hated you.

Hated the past you.

Hated the you of now.

And hate the you in death.

Nothing makes you an angel.

Mold and plasma till

memories give you heart and smile.
Depth of the grave.

Depth of your human self.

Goodbye worthless 

And captureless

And ageless

you. Goodbye.