poetry of the frozen dirtA Poem by MoonlightAnthemonce when i was younger and smarter i stumbled throughout the night, dancing into the streets of fuckheads, two bricks in my hands and a razor in my teeth. snow bled from the crunching clouds, splattering like mud onto concrete freezing and hardening into the distorted dream in my head. i burned all the buildings with the cold of fire while they were burning all the bibles there was alcohol in my mouth and there was song there wasn’t much grace but there was hope. there was always plenty of hope, hope oozing from the walls like a sticky black substance. there was always fear diluted in ecstasy. there was always love melted into all the tragedy, contaminating all the melancholy with its beautiful sirens of wonder and hearts and alcohol and death. there was magic but it wasn’t like the magic in the movies. the magic was thick heavy and stagnant, you couldn’t really see it but you could feel it when you pressed a finger on the ice on a rusty street lamp or reached into the pocket of your thick leather coat. it tasted like warm winter, you could feel it on your tongue. even as the shadows swallow my bones, that taste is still there. the magic isn’t dead. and through the magic of these city streets and boundless entropy, i always dreamed of cowboys and movies, i dreamed of a thousand wonders melted with golden skies, every thump of the heart the perfect sound i dreamed of starlight. starlight without pain. a world screaming with purpose. i dreamed of running away with you through these rattling clouds and frozen roads, but you were wired up to a cell phone a computer and a bunch of concepts that were foreign to me abstract in language but lovely to you and that cut us apart like a switchblade to the thinnest piece of rope now the kitchen’s empty yet i’m still here trying not to fall fall fall apart the magic isn’t dead but it’s a magic i can’t have. i can feel it but i can’t reach it. i don’t deserve it. i’m not in love with you i’m in love with the idea of being in love. if you were someone else i would love them all the same and i’m selfish and i’m terrified.
twenty four years gone without reason. flesh and wet dirt. shadows and silence. the night is truly terrible. what i understand now that i didn’t know in those dreams was that nobody really chooses to be put in this world. you sort of just wake up one day and realize you’ve been here for four or five years. sometimes there’s a mother, sometimes there’s a father, oftentimes there’s neither but there’s always wind, and there’s always sunlight, and there’s always something about a moon. and when the world is so incredibly vast, and stable, and you’re a mess, and you’re so incredibly tiny, a tiny mess with tiny fingers and tiny toes, tiny chest protecting a tiny heart making tiny noises, how can you fit in everywhere at once? how can every last piece of the puzzle make perfect sense? you don’t choose your body. you don’t choose your mind. it would be fantastic if God approached you before you were born and asked if you want to be gay straight or neither tall ugly or loathsome brave or a bird or maybe a mexican or if you even wanted to be born at all but He doesn’t do that, this world is something we’re all just forced to try, try, and try again, try until we die, try until we fall fall fall apart we’re all going to die so we might as well write about it and laugh about it as we fall fall fall apart, we’re broken and we’re vague, we’re monsters but we’re mages, floating and flickering around with the magic of this broken and beautiful day. © 2018 MoonlightAnthem |
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Added on October 31, 2018 Last Updated on October 31, 2018 |