| The Heart of Intensity |
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| Written by Cynthia Smith |
| Thursday, 17 September 2009 11:46 |
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You want to be at the heart of intensity You spit it out, vomit it out, in some gesture that is Never an intended contradiction It’s never a contradiction however to vomit out this tedium Over the rim of the toilet Over the floor where your body lays afterwards, like a fetus It’s not a contradiction for me to pick you up And see you in my arms, old yet unborn It was so dark, so dark Yet there was a flash of the first rays of light in the early morning Over your face, your face alone told the whole story. I let you sleep. I knew you couldn’t fight through the later hours, fight The millions incongruities of all that exists in daylight And so I let you sleep. I was always here beside you Like a mother yet Like a disturbance, a shade that followed you; I tried to get a face; a thousand of faces; to appear in human form; But I was only this abstraction, close to you, and you, the fully fleshed form, Oh, what lot of mine, to be the one to bring you the truth, Nothing would serve as disguise! The truth is that I am Death, the vilest countenance of desire, I am the countenance of Time machine, in my face which holds The flesh with such a voluptuous bone-made frame I embody the despair of each cell that decomposes… I embody you, but it’s not the flesh that slowly sags, That slowly fuses with rags, that frightens you: It’s that look in eyes of who resembles the drowned child After a very, very ancient shipwreck… It’s the same look you see in your eyes. |
| Last Updated on Thursday, 17 September 2009 11:50 |
