“Singular with No Angles”
Up and coming I slashed and I gashed
I fought so hard til I lost all my cash
But the power of love was greater than wrath
I faltered, I fiddled, I was tumid and fat
I sweated, I teardropped, humidity’s bath
Screaming for you to touch me in a real way
Beaming for a stare in a feel way
Who will save my surrealist soul
Congealed and sealed with her teal of rolls
Clipped in a slip with her heels of gold
As I shake and I shiver and I reel from the cold
Recognizing intent not to be truthful
Gartering her next countess of rubles
She wrote me a poem, sang me a tune
Played with my soul and banged me to ruin
Asked for a ring, and asked me for jewels
When all that I fed for was a loving just spoon
So I guarded myself, I waited in purgatory
I ingested myself, praying for a murder story
Couldn’t dance, Couldn’t prance, no turgid to quarry
Found out real love has been purged up by glory
Just wished for raw desire, attraction, devotion
Just wished for a flicker in the end of the quotient
Rooms full of people, smiling and shaking my hand
Telling me they love me, with lace in their gland
But still the presence of isolation where I stand
I worry for you, even when you think I don’t, I always remember
And Yet I’m Only Singular with no angles, so I can sleep at night
Where is your call?
Where is your letter?
Are you alive?
Why don’t you speak?
Why don’t you write?
Why don’t you anything?
Just reach. And hope.
Before the permanent Silence.
— Christopher C. Brown
inspired by those who touched me in the past who I pray for every day and can never ever forget
(with a pencil. at Z’otz 5/31/08)