We will find the inimitable joy of birds fighting against the sky.
Creatures in their smallness, ignorant of gravity, defy the grey
that keeps them. Bruised in the orange kaleidoscopic morning
which has followed all others. Hating the tethers of animal limits
yet knowing them intimately. It’s in the timing of stoplights,
the intoxicating fury of politics. It’s the writing of paragraphs with
four-letter words on the last line. The staccato snap of rhythmic
keys.
Imitating indifference to divide my devices from mundane
devilry. Foundries of sex filled to the brim time and time and time
again until no sensation can penetrate the shell of euphoria- lost in
that candescent haze, annihilating differences, unaware of where
your awareness sits among the close-pressed contact of skins
in blood-rush. Standing naked on our roofs, defiant of the whole of
which we are the maps. The mathematical explanations failing to
explain a single fucking thing.
Pluck egos from screaming safety- force-feed them into the pulsing
fulcrum of strange individuality, affirmed in gasps. Bask in the
dichotomous world, slave under the wheel- it carries a wrack of
pain and full measures of transcendence. See and love the cracked
Earth. Taste the blood of humanity and swallow hard. Learn to
lie to yourself and others. Buckle under the weight of hollow
contempt. Destroy your enemies or love them or never have enemies
to begin with.
A day will come when we will: no longer concern ourselves with
time, make love like summer’s breaking, find indelicate
languages in stone, revel in selfless assistances, scream across
skies and strip naked the machineries there, create empires of
incandescent turbulence, have our bolts of brilliance, find
no better science than music, climb the towers and see the path
ahead. We will undertake these, or we will have died too
soon.
