the pulse of life

keeping a finger on the pulse of life requires a little sensitivity,
if you have to slash your wrist in order to find it you won't be able to hold it there for long.

The man who stole the face of God

when we stormed the gates of heaven,

I didn't understand

Just how forgiving God could be

I didn't imagine

how heavy it might be to bear the one true face

I didn't know he'd let you have

more than we could carry back

I didn't realise you'd be willing to die to keep it.

exciting and insistent

These words are all I know and all I have to offer
take them in your precious hands
let them shine in your eyes and whisper 
quietly but constantly in your ear
exciting and insistent; 
"You are it".

Pour them over your head and let them loose over your naked skin
listen to them drip off your shoulders and gather in the soft places 
where you are most human. 
"This Life is yours."

I want you to know that I love you
no matter what, no matter how, just like this; 
like breathing in and out.
like fucking this
Literally, Sweetly, Sexily
intimately Ultimately; 
Like God himself
Forever and ever amen. 

Word

And just like that

your soul revokes the words no longer said unmeant

even though the masters wore them down

they are not for understanding

and each repetition each reading changes everything

because theres only one language

and only one thing to say

Just a hundred million different ways to put it.

Disproof of everything

what I don't say could never fill all the spaces between us, and I'm already closer than you think.
what I don't know is how to make you believe,
in the gravity I'm falling right through.
 how I'm trying
but the words are all deformed and disproven before they even reach my lips
black with my dark heart , my lonely bloodied beating joy,
gasping for the oxygen to fan these flames;
how can I kiss you with a mouth full  ash?

Enough

I come from a long line of people
well practised in the art of
not wanting too much.

And although I can only see into the near distance
I can feel in my cells,
the turning of years disturbed;
all past presents
and every way it might mean.

The impossible fragility of living and dying
the constant pressure of air
to breathe
and be
maybe....
Enough

Time backs up
fists balled
cornered in relief
like she's been waiting patiently all her life for this.
tears mixed in equal measure of joy and grief.

I was not asleep
yet I was dreaming,
you were mercy's hands
holding that place where I could not reach
where I need
where I breathe
and shit gets real.