An Absurd Poem

It's not a tragedy
It's my life
An impossible love affair
Me and life, life and me

Hiding forest fires in our souls
We waltz around in our wild skins
You throw me towards the sky
I kiss the stars and fly back
You let me slip, I fall flat
At worried faces we laugh out loud
We hoot and stick our orange tongues out
We dance till we break into pieces
Reduce to bits, dissolve into powder
We fly away, leaving dust and debris behind

Freed, we fly with the wind
We entangle our lanky arms around each other
I suffocate you, you choke me
I lock your neck, you pull at my leg
I bring you down, you destroy me
You build me back from dust
I draw you eyes from the wind

When we are tired, we lie down in a meadow
Glittering with starlight- silver now, violet now.
We sing to the night
The night echoes back to us
We let our fingertips touch, for warmth
Under the stars, we kiss for fun
I say I love you, for no reason
You say you do too, with no promise

You leave, you arrive
As blessings, as curses
As coincidences, as strangeness
I look at you, I ignore you
Yet sometimes I wonder where you are
Everywhere I wander
I search in the grass for the tears we had dropped
I dive into seas for the blood we had shed
I sniff the air for the fragrance of our mingled sweats
I touch the earth for the warmth of our skins
For no reason, for no rhyme
Everywhere, I wander

You leave traces of your madness in me
Some sharpness of your wild claws
Some disorder of your ruffled feathers
You make me run aimlessly
From where the world ends
To where the skies end
On an endless effort to shed this humane body
To set this normalcy on fire
To destroy this calm of a holy white skin
To transcend this world and seek something beyond
Something shapeless.

And as I run, so I write
Into the infinite, to the abstract
Pages fall, words fail
I write on walls, I write on the floor
I write with dust, I write with rain
And when all fail,
I write with blood, I carve at my soul
And water it with the salt of my tears

Ages I have waited
To give shape to your madness
To skin, to nails, to nerves and to veins
To give shape to your child
Planets in his eyes
Wind in his hair
Moonless nights in his skin
Volcanoes in his anger

And hence, I write
To give shape to the shapeless
To find a meaning to this madness
To try and define the abstract of me.