The Absence of Wavelength

Hint Of Something Burning

I'm not bright but
spark...glit..warm-pulse alive
cave-illumed drawings in dull stone --
scratch-etch-scrawl dreams drawn
down on oozing walls holding back
pressure-weight, crushing gravity
squeezing space attended in mole man squalor.

Beauty-art in dim-lit eyes spiral
from nose-throat conjecture. Vibrated
tendrils float-protect dry, red-blue heart.
Cool-beat-smooth fleet denizen
from brain machines burdened by
societal-mech-driven dystopian mindspeakers

slapping words on soggy toast drip-drip-dripping
on my floor, foot, leg -- splash back, smack
my thin face, begoggled for such spla-matter.
Visits on my stoop, they pry but don't pass
the threshold, because...I don't know why.

I could name you anything, moniker, but
let you name yourself, and it's meaning to me
within the lexicon of humanity redefines
from your hollow projections, leanings into my
void-soul-abyss. You might get a sense of the emptiness,
if I open the maw whole, cracking that door a bit.

You don’t visit anymore, and I ‘spose
I never knew...or what you are...or
what the hell you ever wanted from me.
Shame me, shame me, shame me, it’s
never ending. Guiltless, on fire, nothing
could put me out. I burn on your porch.
You watch out windows, could stomp me,
well done.


9.19.23
9.23.23 last verse, not consistent, title pending…call it that??