only the ashes

eruptions of desire hit strongest where all is invisible
where all is invincible
where all is imaginary

when you exist I cease to

when you move I am motionless

fact and fiction all swirled together

when can I die next

into a realm of rebirth that will cycle me in some other deity's favor

and this language poorly coded will have to suffice

it is all I have to wrap around burning images of my love

and why flames? why not water?

if it all turns into poetry eventually anyway
then why not see it starting out as metaphor?

what is it all for

this myth of real

this becoming never became and I am wasting breath

dreaming in so many colors outlasting my sight

 

wearing nothing but layers upon layers that could soak away
in the presence of real tears

you cannot practice magic while scoffing the possibilities of magical consequence
say some, pointing to an older kind of wisdom than what we are used to these days

 

eruptions build inside like a volcano

I will share only the ashes

only the ashes are worthy of sharing because they will be lightest

lava eruption is too heavy and the coded language too secret

too secret even for me.