“The Date”

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My heart is a rock making smaller stones

I hate the human experience

I know you are not really of such smallness, the quality of human that divides us against the grain of higher existence

I hate to feel, I hate to have senses that feel like gushing hoards of feral nothingness

I know you aren’t of such smallness

Of weak, salacious, ruining thoughts that catapult into sin

My form palpitates like a half-formed cocoon as I slick my hair back, dab a bit of cologne

My inner collage of pin-pricks and daring foibles collects a flood like a basin

I hate the human experience and you must too, Barbara, for you are not of this disgusting world that is so selfish and cruel

Those blue eyes I have sought from afar

Are the same blue I carried in my bones

The same blue that’s in Heaven, in Hell,

You created the look of a sullen moon with your very breath

You told me to meet you at midnight

Though I find the human experience as a whole insipid, dull, vain

This was the date I was dreaming of even as distaste of what life can bring settles like a stab in my mouth

Punctured as a gutted fish that bleeds out in the water

I put on a old-fashioned ditty

And I did tell the stars about you,

Barbara, one that collects that space dust, the remnants of dead stars and spins them into new planets, gold and chains of life & death

Have I haunted you with my ghostly eyes?

You are the one who put me in your sights, you hunted me before I hunted you

Have I taunted you as I watch you so closely, so far away?

The pureness of your soul rips me in thousands of stones, little by little

We become one, dreading in the dark by the water

You are gutted for me, Barbara

With your twilight murmurs in the blanketed sea that formed the rings around Saturn

Gravity crushed our human experience

Reforming, devastating, draining

Cruelly restructured in ethereal blooms

Of deep, deep, deep.