want to be 10/13/17

I want to be the endlessness,

without regard to gender,

ten seconds away from a mood swing

to then calling it rape.

I want to be in a permanent thirty-meter fall

one foot from unexpected thud.

to be caught between salacious and savage

with the heart of an angelic up-rise,

to be the poisonous vapid ink of a writer

praising the wondrousness of the unknown.

I want to be the endless in-breath

that allows for mind-flight of a body-less being,

to be lost in the turbulent timeline

of a match-head rub

before ignition breaks its silence into flame.

I want to be in the g-force equivalent of giddy

without a thought in the world,

to be forever the coloring

before the invention of lines.

I want to be devastated to beyond belief

only to live in the discovery

that trust doesn’t ever work that way,

to be beyond the reach of adjectives

and yet tongue-less in full presence response.

I want to be madcap and hair-less

and stir crazy with every sip.

I want to be the invisible savior

to every road-kill I pass,

thriving in a world

well beyond comparative truth’s reach

and have a life without contrasts

but effortless zeal,

with no coming-into-frame alerts

or residual awareness that is haunting.

I want to be beyond conclusions or surmise.

I want to be the foretelling of this suicide note

that has no want-to-be’s

but also is the telling of no lies . . .