Inside the urn
There is a space left
For us: the dying memories.
The things left are thick and hard
In amongst the packed in ash
Of our dead loved one.
Just a small pocket
The last breathe
For you to feel
Inadequate
Scared
Alone
Lost
Or
much worse things
make the sturdy base of it.
Count Gesualdo
Filled with rage
Had his men kill
His wife
While she fucked her lover
Who, dressed in women clothes
Begged them
Not to kill him
After her.
They stabbed him in the body and head.
The count went back into the room
Saying “they are not yet dead!”
And stabbed them over and over
And half cut off his wife’s head.
It is hard to cut off a head.
Your wife’s head is harder.
Her face, her body.
Then he went back to his castle
And wrote
Magic.
The dreaded death In your lung breath In you heart reach In your soul stench Tastes like vomit When you take her hand in yours Her small hand Her little loving hand That has done nothing to you yet But has held cocks before Hasn't it? It has held a large hard cock So it's hard to love those little fingers In the same way you'd love Fresh cooked food. I feel sick As the seed Grows beyond me Growing even now Wrapping it does Feeding on my hope And smiling So badly As it grows. It kills the spine. It kills the soul that thinks the spine is important.
The dread from inside
Keeps coming out
To remind you
That the beautiful love you feel
Can not last.
The head will be cut off,
The rabbit will run
Half headless
Into the darkness under the ferns
To die there alone
Panicked and starving.
But that little rabbit
Held trembling
Alive
Kisses your fingers and looks at you
So honestly
Because it needs you
And you can feel its small body
Breathing and shivering
And settling down in your lap
It forgets that there is a world
Away from your lap
That wants to eat it
And boil it
Or put it in an oven
Because its better that way.
That's how you eat a rabbit.
Didn’t you know?
There is no emperor
There is no hiding
The devil came and asked young Werther
We had a child
That died
But that was so long ago
It now feels like
We had a life
That will never exist.
“Why don’t we have another baby?”
“Because you are so upset.”
“I think I am ready.”
“But you will always have lost a child
Forever
And the personality,
Our hope for this child,
Will be always
An imagination.”