The Dilating Void

My opacity lives again The lonely formula I’ve found before, Denting the inner walls with frustrated fists and Crawling breathless Through the weariness of my eyes— The irises too tired, Too worn, and too exposed. The icy whirlpool of longing within me Flows from soul To mind To tear To flesh— The continuous space empty of healing And dilating with each wet stain On my soundless face. When a heart is so unlimited That it could engulf  the wind That bends the trees outside, It’s prone to be bleeding desire, To be filled with a yearning for something pure, Something more difficult than it should be To gain in its true form. Compassion, The only thing to save me, One day at a time— To wish to possess the universe Of someone’s spirit, So that mine can again be full of stars. So that this formula may fade once more, So that it might Die forever. To clothe the depth of the void with words Makes it seem a foreign language, Like the masterpiece that lives in your mind That never looks right On paper. But to not try Is to not wave Good bye For the last time. Written March 18th, 2002 © on Mar 18 2002 01:01 PM PST   0 • 1