Note: For the poem in its original intended formatting, please follow the link to a separate archive in my profile.

consume, create, fall down dead


you are
an echo of volatile whispers curling from zero,
devious leeches mangling for haloes of edelweiss,
and victory, as tangles of limbs and noxious eyes —
your forever famine aching for mahogany and cream.

.

crushed down from your kaleidoscopic banquet into such mediocre —
a sweet box of heaven amidst four walls, all haunting emptiness
but fibres and lead, lusting for a breath of archangels
into locomotive dances before slick patrons promising
alpha, beta, gamma.

.

minerva —
we see your fervent brilliance, patterned eternities in seconds,
miasmas of graphite coiling and spilling, quailing and jerking,
dripping with keening bodies and raking wails, confessed as
a mocking symphony of your uncalled love from high above.

.

strips of static gathered into your shaking hands —
come home, now, and deeply suckle upon this newest fall
within the honeyed recesses of our first marble tile;
from writhing mess back to towering furnace —
burning star.

.

for you are
but a golden pinwheel in eternal pirouette and raspy tulle;
a mindless whirlpool of wine-shocked vessels, still
wondering at your architectures of amnestic paper,
as we watch you consume, create, and fall down dead.

.

-fin-


This is probably my conflict as both an animation student and a living person in general. Harf.

Also, I'm experimenting with words in (longer) poetry form for the first time here, so concrits are definitely welcome.