i lead my finger down yesenin’s spine. it is old cracked torn fragile, just like the words inhabiting it. this hand-me-down soul smells like home still. st. yesenin’s spine, relic of the protector of poets, maniacs and sad minds. i’ve kept it safe under my bed. in my hands, it shivers. unshielded.

and opening up to me, yesenin repeats his goodbyes.

just another book i sacrify to fill my empty mind. going through, for the nth time, i stop.

there seems to be his blood under my nails.

i’m trying to write again.

#prose poetry #yesenin #writing #dark

we are hearts set in motion

spirits that rise up

and fall together

there's a spark of life

between us

a magical bond

that suppresses the time and space

flowing through our bodies

cascading the tiniest of atoms

into a miracle that we

so freely call life

like a power far beyond

the understanding

of anything

that

makes us real

that

makes us humans

we are interconnected as one

all the same dark

and light matter

Can you feel it?

Can you really say

that you

are better or worse

than me,

or the one next besides you?

When in truth we are

the same

body

the same

soul

the same

voice

the lady fair with auburn hair

her vision was crystal clear

she patrolled the streets of Blurry Town

while the guilty dared to make a sound

because she only had one ear

Don't you want to know how she became a cop

its a cliffhanger- now we have to stop

the poem is in 3rd person, it's not about me, it's about her, the girl i stare at from the back of the bus.

stop taking it all so literally, fiction is the basis of my reality and my reality is more than a string of words, so in the end it's all just nonsense and meaningless lies.

cut the letters out of my skin, paste them on a classroom wall and i will still be whole. peel them off once the kids know their sounds and they will still have purpose.

i'm a body of skin and bones, human (as we like to call ourselves), if ink were to flow where my blood now lives i'd be dead in my chair.

keep my heart above ground by acknowledging its biology. only a mad man sees flesh and cuts it open with the sharp end of a pencil.

This heart

melts under the pressure

provided and given by your touch alone.

This heart

beats way faster,

even if it can hardly master the path

between

loving

and surviving,

like a crazy trapeze artist

balancing the adrenaline

on the thin rope of love.

This heart

is selfish

and needy

and even if it cares

it's still greedy,

When

a soul is starving,

the body craving

and the molecules

of our existence

raving on

for the things

that it cannot deliver.

This heart is greedy...

I removed her glasses and gazed

at the cerulean beauty of her eyes.

There was so much promise and

sensuality there, that I dove

right into their welcoming depths.

I never again surfaced from

the filmy surface of her orbs,

washed by the overwhelming

peace and tranquility

beneath her ocean.