coronary insanity

i was drinking up and looking through a glass, darkly
weeping i just have to make it through this evening
pulled the curtains i heard them speaking in tongues
about a naive no-one who never tried who was barely more
than a twinkle in his old mans eye but slightly more than
a suicide who met a good listener with perfect words a
closed lipped ventriloquist heart all-a-slur either you
are still with me or you never were either you are still
with me or you never were either you are still with me or

~loveless

A Goddamned Messianic Tragedy of the Heart

O, you were always my messiah.

The collapse of will and fate; that the knowing flame in our eyes foresaw the descent, the demise -- foresaw this in that our very knowledge was birthed of itself. A goddamned messianic tragedy of the heart. That despite all the animal magnetism, the enchantment, the inevitability, and desire -- that despite will and fate -- we, two ships, sailed valiantly onward in the night... sailed silently, passing, and drifting on immaculately, never to pass by again. Never to touch.

When the mind, the microcosmos, the world, and the cosmos all pled otherwise.

Self-denial turned denial toward you. So consumed. Two selves meant to be entwined, such that one self is the other. And so to self-sacrifice is to betray.

Self-denial turned denial toward you.

And so, I ran. From myself [from you]. Tore myself away, anguish, agony, love. And when I died, because I did, because a self cannot be torn in half, you resurrected me.

O, you were always my messiah -- the messiah of my heart... my lifeblood, my cherished, fallible, mortal, living, pulsing messiah.

I breathe you, as though you pump the bellows of my soul. Your beauty sustains me, ever enamored. The more I love you, the more I am resurrected; the more your messianic stare pierces me sorely, the more the sweet joins the bitter. The beauty I see in you I see in myself. The beauty in you is the beauty in me.
Selfless self love.

And though I stand alone, my lone self is all I need because you live on in me.

The Story of a Million Faces

I've surrendered.

I've surrendered the to fact that I won't surrender; that no matter how futile, how inane & abysmal it gets, that no matter of fucking foolish & delusional & absurd... I can't surrender. I'll fucking love you.

It is fucking absurd. It's the most ruthlessly laughable tragicomedy you'll ever hear of. Heartbreak.
I applaud you, Almighty, that was a truly magnificent one. Really beautifully executed. Touching, really. Did you see how skillfully the dramatic irony was employed? She really believed him! She really did! She thought love would last forever!

Obdurate, blind, tragic.

I haven't been able to eat a full meal in days.

I'm alone.

& yet, I know I'm not alone. I know I'm no different; as insignificant as every other motherfucker out there who fell prey to those goddamned inescapable human tendencies, to the inevitable & doomed human drama, to [yes, yes, you guessed it] L-O-V-E. Blessed with the natural capacity for it.
This is insanity, my god.
My pain is the human story that has unfolded over&over&over for millennia, told & untold, remembered & lost, the story of a million faces. Beaten weary by the hand of time.
& it still reaches fresh, unfathomable depths, it still is the biggest. thing. in. the. world.

& it is incommunicable.


Is it denial if you know you're wrong? Wrong & defected & hopeless?
Is it denial if you can say "I'm in denial"?


& it will hang over me, the irrational hope. The years will go by, & I will live in triumphant dreams, find respite in the false oblivion, breathe the slaphappy delusions, until I will breathe no more.

Depravity, the Great Equalizer

I was calling it an ineffable sadness, but I heard that it was called "poetic despair."
...Depressive slump works, too.
They descend erratically, the spells, like a staggering drunk, completely unstable and untrustworthy. And completely sickening. If his fix is alcohol, mine apparently is dauntless, zealous, unmitigated self-sabotage. Makes your head swoon and reel. [But it's more fun to participate in the pain than to let it slap you around!]

And then it lifts, remarkably, miraculously, and unreasonably. And I am painfully aware that I am at the mercy of the same cosmic force that governs every single other member of humanity, alike. No different.

"Pain is worn so beautifully on other people."
Oh, if only we were all other people. Then wouldn't we be such glamourouslittlebabydolls.

Poetic despair. It must have been said about other people. I think mine has something to do with my misanthropy. My disgust at Valentine's day, at weapons of mass destruction, at Christians oozing with self-righteousness, and above all else, at this sexual, alcoholic, drug-binging, hedonistic nihilism that neither class, nor location, nor time does escape.

Depravity, The Great Equalizer.