I. Ash Wednesday
For I do not know, I do not know. I do not need more noise, but I crave it. How do I crave it. How those tendrils cling to my neck, I bend my back towards the ground because I cannot bear the weight. I. I. I. I wear that cross again, not metaphorically. Spirit is a parasite, but I wear it on my forehead—metaphor for clarity. I was once in purgatory and I felt its tendrils, its pain. I felt spirit dragging me towards its center—metaphor for depression. I grew tired of being a metaphor, so I found spirit bursting through the seams of my sadness. It was always there and never left. Sadness, that is.
II. The thoughts of death have vanished and the sky is still the sky
but not the same sky. I do not feel the same sadness, but I hear you knocking on my door. Invoking phantoms is a nasty habit and I need to be rid of it. Hell, I have read somewhere, is full of noise. I know, I know. See, I busted open my heart and tar spilled everywhere and it covered the entire world. Its fallout covered the planet for ages and almost everything died. Things that were not even alive died. See, all of my poems have to do with that blackened sky; its taste, the sound of death, its weightless movement.
III. My wife told me I should not spend so much time in front of a screen
The spirit that fell like thunder said I will not serve you. It was a spirit, a wraith; the most beautiful being there ever was. My wife is miraculous: thunder upon thunder, a force of nature. Her hands could shatter mountains. Hurricane. I tried. I tried my best. Me and my wife, forever. Hey, I do regret that time when we went to get dinner. She went to get sodas and I got the hamburgers. When we sat down, she said I brought you the usual. The usual. How tied are our destinies.
IV. What the thunder said
Cue T. S. Elliot. Colors are important. Your color is the lack of color or every color at once. Depends on how you see it. My whole existence is a love letter for you. My undying love. My destiny. You said love was an evil force and I agreed. Not sure why.
V. Cue T. S. Elliot
Shantih shantih shantih
