Urban Rosary

It’s not that I lost interest it’s that I let my interest devour me until there was nothing of me anymore left  Days spent wasting the dawn from red to blue to I gave you what I thought you wanted, space and All the stars of the infinite night sky To gaze at, alone And all the interactions which felt anymore forced withered away like tea leaves in the June sun. And I washed the floor with my spilled tears and cum stained rags went through the laundry each week like clockwork I liberated myself from this like I will escape everything which threatens to stifle me. Bearing down and the blood in pools and cold shakes me and in a few weeks the scent of me will just be a memory not to be melodramatic but you become that way when like a heavy bud set to bloom you are crushed and this is the way you turn. 

ghost sense*. empty World ghost world, empty sense like an insect trapped in the snow-covered ground, critical thinking in a gutter entering into a cloudy psyche, smashing it to bits, to dirt. you want to lay in the dirt, to be buried in it, to go back, to happiness, to torture, to realization... of wanting nothing, being nothing. walking into a muffled scream, the sound, of the son of god, desolate in his blight. you see the world as it has been created... in his image, in a seed. my DNA inside of a seed, inside a cell, waiting to be fertilized, copied; to create an infinity of my image, a fractal loop of an endless stream which is my consciousness. eternal... yet, I am stalling, trying to decompose time. collapsing Chronos; is time fleeting or nonexistent? if i wait for the answer long enough I will be dead, but time will still go on. maybe it never was. we are partaking in the ritual of the suburbs...laughing at sacred things. the "malformed" lay unconscious, under the knife. removal of skin, removing the difference finding the least common denominator in people's faces. the most plain face is epitomized as the most attractive; the fusing of all faces into one. destiny's flowing pulse... even the purest rose wilts in the absence of sunlight. without sun, in the subway car the tantra of city life drawn-out commute lasts forever; a holy sin. this is a test... how can you live if you are constantly dying? the ritual of the womb... rainfall is deadly; gather your virgins, huddling indoors, a shelter from the storm, which seeks to destroy their innocence, washing away the purity of every rose... a moth to a flame, a maiden driven to lust. tainted blood is the punishment. no longer one's own being tainted with the other, the breath of the other, unification of elements of matter. once you were a separate being. now a part of someone else haunts you. their thoughts manifesting, you dream images and experiences which are not yours. recall memories, a life not of your own. year after year you seek to abort silence, reality seeming unreal, walking into the margins and you do not understand where you stand any longer... you find yourself on the edge. the poet is a dog chasing its' own tail. you chase what you believe is out of your reach, not realizing that you possess it all along. you want it to possess you, something outside of you... waiting to be broken into. apart from you...a part of you. waiting for the departed to come back, to hold communion once again. to get back what's lost, not lost, but hidden in the margins.

r�ߞ亱-FE

What does the wind look like? A symphony of desire. A gust of longing. Wind. It is a dancer without a face. The way it spins you around. You move with the wind, you become the wind as it moves through you. The wind passes through you and leaves you empty. It has swept up your longing and carried it away. It carries it along in currents of howls. What does your longing look like? Wind bellowing in an empty well.

You filled with me life, and i just could not contain it. - Urbanrosary, June 2015

warm packed cathedral, meet me a little ways within.

The moon that swelled ample within my womb now whispered “shed”  Shed every layer of skin that has grown too thick and callous Slough Molting moth emerges out to chase light and love. -- Heavy breathing cackling easily laughing at being flesh -- My trembling heart of one thousand springtime suns every oscillating palpitation brings me closer to the truth and to death.

my skin scraps, lining. wires to pierce flesh sunlight is ego damaged womb. liwe-wire electric, everything's all night; put dead bolts on the night sky; with or without, damned. survival or death. hair dipped in honey; paintbrush in blood, springing the vein in. out. blood. welcome, dead territory.

completed first day of heaven i said heaven is a very phallic leather whip i washed my phone in pee-drenched perfume running down my eyes i cry in and drink from the same cup now i'm starting round two my limbs are pale (not) and narrow and full of hidden possibilities i'm soaking cigarettes in water for my demons to feed them because there's nothing else left to give i'm just straight up leaving for good better or worse if death comes too soon there's the hearse there's the door no need to ask for more i've had it all and it's all yours and mine eyes no longer see they just reflect what's left: nothing. nothing but emptiness and all that's in between.

God is in disguise tonight as the twinkle in your eye, the glow on your cheeks, the warmth of your hands... but I see through it all; I see that it's God that's comes to play.

You forever beyond the longing deep in your shoulders Little dusk full of seeds and brilliance the graceful day shimmering embrace Each other. Melting secret making way towards manifestation, stripped heart unwavering, anew sings free tempo of every immensity get your bones moving my cloistered heart an Immense open sky be-longing. Where to? across hands and every shattered silence Under creation burning God That blood Now loves every shoulder Another untarnished quiet space… be the burning that reaches another heart.

The loom that dwelled bare within my chest now whispered “love”, in the lurching silence of a heart void of its’ desire  trembling in the profound darkness of my being, another secret dusk, luminosity exposed. soft, weightless light of revealing union beyond blood and bone.

cunt queen crocodile moth child died that day down the river sadness ripples of flesh-on-flesh decaying fever rays yearnsome melting point of my infinite bloom balloon boy chasing away mice and rats moon after moon alter ego sunless love chide away the lotto tickets dropped off at the animal shelter but I find myself with less of a heart than a mayfly without mother’s warm milk the silk-spun love-lorn heart-song in my mother’s tongue never knowing the slant of her eye or her hoarse voice worse off of course than I ever saw or heard before and altogether lost not a hot-ticket prize to be won carried off forever young but old ways not undone tie the score blue nail beds, shaking hands where blood stood still in pools of quivers more stars than the sky devoured by Saturn, burned by Mars, lost in the pines, i found the seeds and stashed them in the ground so that I would be free to move on.

cat in a window natural born yogini on the prowl escapes jumps into your lap and with her coconut paws kneads at your purusha, your tender open heart effervescent, blushing, and tart.

How to measure the spark of a soul? Two moonbeam eyes flickered like flames Watched the moon grow Before my eyes. Heart flooded with blood Raw homespun heart of unpolished emotion. Umbilical moon tight around me Lifted from the depths of the sea For a moment heavier; Water evaporates into air and into light.

"to be elemental (being stated in a whisper before drifting off into non-being)".

I would wait for you until the sun burns out, til we are dead stars, particles of dust and fire your flesh becomes the sky, a mighty wind, swarming into my body, the virgin soil, rich and fertile. the wind takes the shape of a cloud of smoke, a dense fog. the blessed soul and murdered night, the scattered waves.... we are the cells inside a flower, we multiply and divide, in this black mechanical box of soul, universe. but it's a world you can't sanctify; for what is sacred cannot die and you can't sanitize your sanity, for the bullet you brought back was still wet with blood, and nobody's breathing.