Words are the Soul Flesh
There is a swarm
of the expressionless monotonies
which resound
off the bleeding walls and pierce through
Your soul
writes all it wishes to convey
on these beaten, chipped, and tattered walls
It longs to burn through
scorch by scorch, run it through the flesh
to pierce the outside
to make them understand
Your desire to scrape
to the bottom of their soul and wash
all that you have lost
in the substanceless beauty to fit the order of the world
and its sameness
will choose words at the surface
that may never reach yours
which I string together now
engulfed in evanescent hope to touch you
with my bruised and hollow bones
Where the aches are housed that twinge
to prod the branches of the vine to swallow
In the dwelling of another
I find my words enveloped in their care
deeply wound around the chained wish
to say
to stay
but pardon the mess
of the poetry that runs
Deep and wide describes the connections
forged in the expression of this art
is a flooding rush
of the human spirit
of yours into mine
Own
the soul you've been given
but poetry's intrinsic nature invades
to engrave the mind
Where the matter is gray
to be brightened with flourishes
of words
through means of poetry
I have fallen in love
With the mystery of catharsis
I unveiled my ever buried enigma
to eternally work for the internal treasure
to be bound
to human spirits' external treasures
through poetry's flesh.