0: The Fool

Stefan Johansson（Swedish, 1876–1955）

when the roar of scaled gleaming highways

seems (when we close our eyes) the sea,

thrumming salty up the throats of humming caves;

Or wide-eyed, a wayward world

screaming down the Thunderpath, rocketing through atmospheres

to pierce the (oh-so-temporary) stillness

(And you’ve never called me beautiful,

But you've never seen such tiny fingernails)

I could laugh or weep or kiss you

But sadly, I choose all three

(I’d rather lay myself down in the sea and swallow up the galaxy)

Something, not unlike love

(And only I know what makes me hold my tongue)

I fear the day, ever closer coming,

You’ll catch that heavy thud, and flee the sound of gory hunter’s heels crashing red

Instead of the stumbling yowls of the hunted

(My hunted heart)

The beast of devotion beats through the brush,

she lays bones quietly at your feet in the darkness

and recoils at the scent of your fear

(Those blasts aren’t crimson-hungry bullets)

I wish you knew

(These things only I know)

That She could never hurt you,

even if She tried

(Not even if She died)

She sends you screaming like an avalanche

(You’d never know how much She loves the cold)

This is something, only possible when you know

you can’t love someone

because in loving him, he hurts

so even if We wanted to,

It wouldn’t be love if We did

(But maybe something, something close)

I’ve loved the parts of you before the unloveable you was formed

He’s something, almost human

(Trust me)