The Sounds Inside

there is something
about being
caught out
in the unrelenting
as though god
is driving
icy nail after
icy nail
into my naked
into my weathered
trying to execute
some grand design
of deeply buried
dormant within me,
it makes me
grin, deep on
the knife point,
it fills with me
leather exuberance,
oh spectre in the sky,
oh little wisp,
filled with anger
and melancholic thunder,
i am more of a god
than you, for i
still live,
the years may
not have been good to me,
but they treated me
better than you,
and as those glacial
fragments trickle
down my nose and
cling to my beard,
as they form rivers
down my breast,
over my mother’s mark,
over the scars of
a thousand darlings,
my mind is awash
with my lovers and
enemies, honing in
on every
fragmented timeline,
and the…

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