say it so your head stops hinting * 9/17/13

Somehow in your solar plexus,

do huge molars gnaw on your unknowable piece?

Do your electrical juices surge with the impending?

Do any thoughts that come to you

seem to be accompanied by a lurking vagueness?

Do these thoughts have a feel

for the taste of something raw?

Do these thoughts that you have

incite an unavoidable crush upon your thinking?

Are you given to fits of composure

yet fracturing deep within?

Do discursive convulsions of speech

bend your emotional stand?

Is your skin readied for chaotic sweats?

Do you carry a darkness words cannot express?

Is this deep from where you come

a wrenched gut that hurls out of your mouth

your breath and anonymous spit?

Does this vacuous place inside you

send out anguished calls for intimacy

on to a crowd of wide eyed granite looking in?

Does this boa of ever-expansive silence around you

seem like it is tightening it's grip?

Do you perceive that you are alarmingly overwhelmed, down to the genuflecting knees

of your trembling while sensing self?

And do you then barter with your adrenalin

to trade vials of it for the possibility of a lesser truth,

knowing full well that you do not want that either?

Yet does your synaptic capacity for fear lather you up 

and lead your-falling-into-hopelessness, onward?

Say it, say this in silence with me.

“I find the warmth of my blood on the backwash

deep down some gargantuan jaws.

I smell it. I taste it. Know it is mine.

And it feeds this me who devours,

never to be the same chemistry,

never to taste the same lament,

never to dress as memory hooking into me again.

I am just savage as feast, riding the beast of new life,

more voracious than whole thought,

more the vicious swim than the surmise circling”.

A drumming goes out from me, that never leaves.

This grinding down, an exhilaration to my other parts.

This desperation, skeletally honest,

white-hot and fragrant.

Say this out loud to yourself:

“I am the blackened joy of what bludgeons me.

I am numbed by these acts that lighten me.

I am blinded, but I intend to fly away,      

hacking off all of me, attached to the earth.

I will fly away, even if only as remains.      

Beckoned onward, by the torching

from this, my blue flame.”