Lacrimosa

Lacrimosa I-VII, The Tearful

I: a suicide

I throw myself into freefall.

Pressed against those smudged glass frames,

Further, further;

The shattering of thin ice,

Only now when

February snow falls as ashes.

I threw myself into freefall,

And here beyond all things,

We are unstoppable.

Our bodies falling as morning dew

Mine as dry riverstone

I pray that you catch on the wind

I pray that you catch on the winds.

And I'd throw myself there into freefall,

Swirling within my panoply of broken glass,

Swirling-

Coming back to earth as a light rain.

II: denials

Paralyzed in a moment

I throw your name into the wind,

Writing it there in indelible black ink.

I think of you as I start the car,

I think of you before I go.

Yet behind these smudged glass frames,

I conduct illusions

Of sin and pride,

Speeding off into the distance.

I polish my secrets like the fine silver,

As something thrown out like a car bomb

On a Friday afternoon.

What am I but divvied out

With shallow, rusted tablespoons

Here or there in the drone hour-

They will never catch me now.

III: the unsaid

Daily in the mornings

Our gazes fall as a glacier,

Suffocating under pooling thoughts

For all that we are,

neatly tied down, wrapped up

In lambskins.

And here in our Friday afternoons,

Our gazes fall as ashes,

Suffocating all our pooling thoughts

Of all that we are,

Things neatly tied, wrapped together

In lambskins.

IV: storms

Thrown up on the rocks,

The mad summer tides

Smashed there upon those rocks-

These are the nights that may never end,

All things live from the panopticon;

Those were the nights that would never end.

They tell us to be still like a mist,

But I came in as a light rain.

But they saw me as I came into the light,

And once upon a time, they'd thought

He'd simply rolled in, that oncoming storm;

And once in a while

This life came down as Tuesday's light rain

In these places where it's all the same

These few places where dahlias dare to grow-

All for favor of the drowned.

V: the worshiped

Here, eyes grow heavy with silence

But only here, they'd call you by name:

SIN EATER

And only here would they call you by name,

Here at the end of all things.

Here in this place of dreams

We are wonderfully restless

Swirling within this panoply of stars,

Swirling-

Here we sang as the sun went down,

When for a long while we pray to you

Our heroin goddess:

All these and more in the drone hour.

VI: the falling

We had their calling cards, and they ours now.

We assumed there were words for these,

When they all knew there was one.

But only once before entropy

Swallow us whole

Would they cradle me,

Amid the yellowed flowers, there

Fixed there among the stone flowers.

But all these things,

Arranged by time, name, place,

We disregard to feed the growing smoke,

All in all to feed the growing smoke.

So call me an optimist

For all that I knew;

Drawn out on canvas,

Like my passe suicide-

There was nothing quite like that

Which we would create,

Freefalling in our panoply of glass

and stars.

I beg you to see me,

To save me.

So call me an optimist

For the things I drew,

All with indelible black ink

All written in these yellowed pages

In which I wish I knew the words

With which to reach back again,

To reach back out again

To ask you to touch my heart.

I cry out,

In freefall I beg,

If only you would see me,

If only we weren't shadow;

All these things in the black ink,

Written in the yellowed pages,

All with which to feed the smoke,

All with which to feed the smoke,

To feed the smoke-

May they never catch me now.

VII: Requiem Lacrimosa

Find me there among those stone flowers,

Indexed between Duchamp and Camus;

May we give our regards to the dead

And move on.