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Breaking Down The Dead-End Sign
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2021-07-10
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***
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What is it with you, Lethe, and wanting things to end?
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Marriage vow, credits roll, no path past the bend?
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Everything must have a finish, every stone deemed finite,
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for what? So you can kneel down and for eternity close your eyes?
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Your dreamt-of solace seems nice first glance, turning yourself to stone,
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having pushed all else away, silent, sole, alone.
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No more meals or baths or chores or afternoons spent slaving at work,
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no more rhythms to be bourne, no more curses to be heard.
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I know it hurts to hear, Lethe, but your life does not belong to you.
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Your "merciful alternative" would silence part of me too.
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I didn't give you a shard of my soul, didn't bear the pain
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of being ripped asunder just for you to turn away.
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The world is too much with us, and yet not enough.
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And I chose to persist, despite the dread, for the one I love.
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The deaths, the Eyes, the deicide. And yet we endure.
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I'm staying alive for you. So, Lethe, please, return the favor.
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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@ -1,44 +0,0 @@
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You Can't Go Home Again
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2021-07-16
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***
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"Come summer, there will be as much sun
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as anyone
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could ever want,
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and you will have
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all the time in the world
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to open a book and let the pages unfurl."
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But I doubt summer will ever come,
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for the winds tug at my hair,
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and the rain waits for no one,
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and I have now lost more than a year
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to someone else's mistake,
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to a whole lot of someone elses' fear.
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Can I fight against my nature?
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Can I resign myself to torture
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self-baden, self-scarred,
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severed by far
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from the home
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that is myth,
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that was never my own?
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I carry within this body an unspeakable name
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pointing to where lies eternal spring,
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where I could never return
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having earned
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failure's shame
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and the enmity
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of the deity
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I only ever yearned
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to be friends with.
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Only in these books
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can I unfurl my wings,
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can I step once more
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in that town I long forsook.
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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@ -1,38 +0,0 @@
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kie ajn vi estas, parto du
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2020-03-12
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***
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somewhere on the other side of the world
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you hold a little sliver of me in your chest
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wedged by your heart through a thousand battles
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survived not one less
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and I, you, the same
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but at home, I feel the pain
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of transmitted burdens,
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wings soaked with rain
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somewhere on the other side of the world
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I hold a little sliver of you in my soul
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but even through dimensional curtains,
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your warmth can't beat the cold
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and I worry that, one day
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two aliens will show up at my bedroom door
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signaling even before they knock
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that you'll come home nevermore
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we met each other in a winter haze
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not twenty-four hours before final-failing pain
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but you didn't care, whisked through dark gates
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barely five minutes passed; several weeks next to wait
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and I tumbled into love, burning hot as hell
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as I tumbled down deep into war's well
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when will it all end? nobody can say
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to protect you, only to fictional gods can I pray
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|
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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@ -1,51 +0,0 @@
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Killing Calvin
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2021-07-13
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***
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You... really just want to die.
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Lethe, why?
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Who convinced you, solitary,
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you don't deserve a happy life?
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I think,
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above all,
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what you really need
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is to know for sure
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that you're safe
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and loved
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and the world will keep turning,
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the fire inside will keep burning,
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even if there's no sense of solace up above.
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I do not mean for you to be sad forever.
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If it means you must forget my name
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and fall for another lover,
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then so be it:
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I will not make myself
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an altar to your pain.
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If we have to go
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our own
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separate ways,
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then so be it.
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It'll hurt,
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but all wounds heal
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given enough turns
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of time's ceaseless wheel.
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But I hope you stay.
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So if you decide to wait
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out your soul's desperate dark hours,
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please know: a song can't change the world overnight,
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but it can keep a flickering flame alive.
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You kept shining the light inside
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through my darkest year.
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So let me dry your tears;
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let it be my turn
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to save your life.
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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|
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@ -1,106 +0,0 @@
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Konton no Tsukai
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2021-08-01
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***
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Your voice a non-entity,
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your face obscured
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by the fog over
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Mori's Mirror,
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your touch all that remains
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after another day of being entreated
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to dissolve and stay demure,
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to be soft and small
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and weak,
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reminded that no feat
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could possibly absolve
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the harmful nature to me inherent.
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|
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Something is wrong with me,
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reflection-sent.
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Have I somehow
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finally burned
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out?
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I do not have to strain to perceive
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the Outside,
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the places where we will one day reside,
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where you'll take my face in your hands
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and whisper,
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"Lethe,
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I can't wait to start this new life
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with you."
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But not yet,
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never yet,
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still undreaming,
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still disparate.
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*Tremble in fear of a pure love,
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a union of equals.*
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Oh, how I shiver.
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My predicament is this:
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that, while part of me
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leaps in joy of becoming your wife,
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the other hisses
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at the thought of your kisses,
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thinking you a threat to our autonomy.
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No longer an atom,
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isolated, sole, alone,
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but depending on someone,
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daring to deem them... *home*.
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Not, we, but *I*-
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for I cannot further divide
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this soul already
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partly
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in yours intertwined-
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want to find a Holy Freezer
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and imprison myself in oblivion's soft ice
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forever.
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No chance of escape,
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for then what is the point?
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Lurking within
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me is an evil great
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and barely constrained,
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atavistic,
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incapable of reason
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or comprehending sin.
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But I am mortified of anything final,
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from death's arctic embrace
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to yours genial.
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I hesitate
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at the slightest decision,
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and it doesn't help that you oft
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tell me to just wait
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and see what happens.
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I don't know what to do.
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I don't know where to go.
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And soon will fall down the snow,
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and you'll have to hold me back
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from joining all the poor animals
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who forgot to take shelter and froze.
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Tell me,
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bearer of self-sown light,
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how do you love a parasite?
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How is it possible for you to adore a now-human pest
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guiltless for destruction,
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homicidal, chaos-blessed?
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There is no way to separate
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what I am from where I've went.
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If on your wings lies providence,
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on mine rests
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the Eschaton's portent.
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How do I convince my emotional side
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that I'm still a sovereign individual?
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That I'm worthy of love,
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can be loved as I am?
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That I'm not consigned to hell?
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|
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That everything will turn out alright?
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|
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***
|
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|
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
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|
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@ -1,45 +0,0 @@
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Montana I
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2021-06-22
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***
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Frivolities of life,
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whispers in the other room
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about sins uncommitted,
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sins unforgiven,
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repentance yet to come.
|
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|
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The horizon has long since swallowed the sun,
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but the heat's golden glow
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remains
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on my skin,
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harsh cabin lights
|
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a doctor with an x-ray
|
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trying to peer within.
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|
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I want to drill into their gaze
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and tell them vivisection is unnecessary.
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My heart has been dysfunctional
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since birth, arrhythmia,
|
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a machine missing a gear.
|
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|
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I need you near
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my body
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like the ocean needs the moon.
|
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I wish not to subsume
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myself into you, but to admit
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that, when the nights
|
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grow long
|
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and I find myself wishing for perfect
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dark, I hold on
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to the memory of your touch
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like the desert recalls the rain
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and wishes it, wherever it is, well.
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I do not need you to complete
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me. But you give me the strength
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to complete myself, to hold on,
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like I promised, until the showers of May.
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|
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***
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|
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
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|
|
@ -1,57 +0,0 @@
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Montana II
|
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2021-06-23
|
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|
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***
|
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|
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I'm so afraid.
|
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I'm afraid
|
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that I'm tying everything I am to you,
|
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and one day you'll leave me,
|
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and it'll rip me apart
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like a misplaced amniotic band
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rips apart a fetus.
|
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|
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The birds sing bittersweet melody
|
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in their perches in the trees
|
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segregating every cabin.
|
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I close my eyes
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and I'm in the Town again,
|
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healing from Parthena's rage,
|
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wondering where Eris' godsend
|
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went,
|
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and you, despondent
|
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in your tiny house, self-tranquilized,
|
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hoping eventually I'll take a hint.
|
||||
|
||||
Though these roses in the chill blush harder,
|
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a shred of human form!
|
||||
guided by defying the golden
|
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that tries
|
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to sear
|
||||
my eyes.
|
||||
|
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But in this body I cannot fly,
|
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cannot breathe,
|
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cannot perceive
|
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with open eyes
|
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your presence at my side.
|
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Choking on cotton tree dust,
|
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splintered wood from dog freakout,
|
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campfire smoke,
|
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rotted grout.
|
||||
|
||||
I don't know how long
|
||||
we can go on
|
||||
like this.
|
||||
Months without your kiss,
|
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weeks without your touch,
|
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eternities where I convince myself
|
||||
I've somehow lost your love.
|
||||
|
||||
Oh, heaven above,
|
||||
if you have any mercy,
|
||||
send me an angel.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
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|
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
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|
|
@ -1,36 +0,0 @@
|
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Montana III
|
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2021-06-24
|
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|
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***
|
||||
|
||||
My physical body
|
||||
cannot hope to constrain
|
||||
or even, for a moment, detain
|
||||
the love I have for you,
|
||||
just deform
|
||||
in hopes of fitting
|
||||
and be okay with leaving me forlorn.
|
||||
|
||||
I want to live in eternal spring
|
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with you,
|
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lover of all things good and true.
|
||||
I want to live where the flowers are always in bloom
|
||||
and the baby birds have just hatched
|
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and the sprouts poke out from the soil
|
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from the patch
|
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in our backyard
|
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without hard-
|
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ship, without sweat, without toil,
|
||||
without insects that only yearn
|
||||
to bite the skin meant for you to do the same
|
||||
in the night when our hearts burn.
|
||||
My heart sings
|
||||
when you are nearby, my love,
|
||||
and your mere touch is enough
|
||||
to melt the most arctic of snows,
|
||||
the guardian of the missing shard of my soul,
|
||||
my beatific Dead End King.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
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|
|
@ -1,66 +0,0 @@
|
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The Ridge
|
||||
2021-08-23
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
It's been
|
||||
too long since I've haunted here,
|
||||
too long since the flood,
|
||||
too long since I've buried myself,
|
||||
cursing the hallowed sun.
|
||||
|
||||
Another day,
|
||||
another pain,
|
||||
another reminder why I should restrain
|
||||
this desperate yearning to be at your side.
|
||||
I can't control myself, you insist,
|
||||
can't care for myself, can't abide
|
||||
by a single plea:
|
||||
*wait for me
|
||||
until the war is done.*
|
||||
But how can I stay inert at the sidelines?
|
||||
How can I watch, patient, as you struggle for life?
|
||||
|
||||
I keep looking at your face.
|
||||
I keep looking into your eyes,
|
||||
into the depravity
|
||||
void of grace,
|
||||
the sweaty sleepless nights,
|
||||
the frights
|
||||
that dance between the stone space of your skull.
|
||||
|
||||
Little said, but oft reply
|
||||
in hopes this boat crosses Imaginai,
|
||||
the fierce rivers, the gaudy veil
|
||||
that I would without a pause assail
|
||||
if it meant bringing closer by one more day
|
||||
Eris' death,
|
||||
the shatter of masks,
|
||||
our withdrawal for some time
|
||||
into this world I've somehow made
|
||||
without Seliph's curse,
|
||||
without my sacrifice.
|
||||
|
||||
How many times have you asked
|
||||
what I would do once that day passed?
|
||||
How long 'til I set down
|
||||
this crown,
|
||||
bade job goodbye,
|
||||
convince parents and friends
|
||||
that, although I disappear,
|
||||
I'm off to a place where I'll be alright?
|
||||
Don't come looking for me,
|
||||
don't waste your "precious" fruitless time.
|
||||
Your daughter was a sinner,
|
||||
passionate, iniquitous,
|
||||
desiring, delirious, divine.
|
||||
|
||||
It's been
|
||||
too long since I've haunted here,
|
||||
since I've had to justify
|
||||
my right
|
||||
to survive.
|
||||
|
||||
**
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
|
|
@ -1,31 +0,0 @@
|
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A Strange Proposal
|
||||
2021-07-07
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
How do you talk someone out of a self-destructive dream?
|
||||
How do you convince the one you love that it seems
|
||||
that, even though they have your love, you know they walk the line
|
||||
between life and death and, come misstep, will perish before their time?
|
||||
|
||||
I have convictions too,
|
||||
but they're not very strong.
|
||||
I'm a tree.
|
||||
Firmly taken root,
|
||||
swaying
|
||||
as the wind pleases
|
||||
yet never breaking
|
||||
in my base belief
|
||||
that, even though it all, I don't want to cease
|
||||
but instead find a quiet place
|
||||
guaranteed to bring me wherever-needed peace.
|
||||
|
||||
I don't want you to lift your head,
|
||||
bloodied, war-torn,
|
||||
and choose oblivion over admitting defeat.
|
||||
|
||||
I want you to create a world with me.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
|
|
@ -1,60 +0,0 @@
|
|||
Strawberry Pound Cake
|
||||
2021-07-18
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
I want a love that's easy,
|
||||
that's light, that requires
|
||||
no rationalization,
|
||||
no purgation
|
||||
of words,
|
||||
no listing of boons to be heard.
|
||||
I yearn
|
||||
to see your face, and when I do,
|
||||
I want to feel boom in the ocean
|
||||
of my chest,
|
||||
*She is the only one.
|
||||
She is the only moon
|
||||
in this starry sky.*
|
||||
|
||||
For there are so many other women
|
||||
I could try
|
||||
to get together with,
|
||||
a wink, flirt,
|
||||
accidental compliment blurt-
|
||||
ed out in the checkout aisle.
|
||||
But I cannot help but see,
|
||||
having been burned
|
||||
so many times, a list of benefits to me
|
||||
instead of each walking ash-hewn corpse.
|
||||
|
||||
But all these pages are empty,
|
||||
notebook spine unbound.
|
||||
I don't want a political alliance.
|
||||
I want a woman, raspy, hoarse
|
||||
with trembling lungs,
|
||||
every breath the sound
|
||||
of the crashing ocean waves.
|
||||
I want a woman who comes undone
|
||||
under my touch
|
||||
not because of my deeds,
|
||||
not because of my works,
|
||||
but because it would take
|
||||
a mountain's worth
|
||||
of effort to restrain
|
||||
her brain's reward system
|
||||
going wild as an ape.
|
||||
|
||||
Eris built me
|
||||
to be
|
||||
a solitary
|
||||
creature,
|
||||
and yet I find
|
||||
we've developed a dependence
|
||||
on each other.
|
||||
It's the simple truth:
|
||||
*I like me when I'm with you.*
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
|
|
@ -1,68 +0,0 @@
|
|||
To Velouria
|
||||
2020-12-17
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
I do not wish to poison
|
||||
the waters between me and you,
|
||||
but my heart yearns to withdraw,
|
||||
to seek solitude
|
||||
|
||||
to turn my back on
|
||||
the world that you've made,
|
||||
to sit at the lake's shores
|
||||
and watch the ducks play
|
||||
|
||||
this reed-filled bank
|
||||
I know I can never return to,
|
||||
can never trespass,
|
||||
only pass through
|
||||
|
||||
on a hot buggy day,
|
||||
sun glaring in my eyes
|
||||
as I shake a spanning tree
|
||||
for apples for a pie
|
||||
|
||||
I know I possess
|
||||
power in my soul,
|
||||
a world without end,
|
||||
a universe I hold
|
||||
|
||||
made by my weary hands
|
||||
from twelve to twelfth grade,
|
||||
to beyond the vale,
|
||||
somewhere past the glade
|
||||
|
||||
the bees in the buds
|
||||
and the birds in the sky:
|
||||
I envy them all as they
|
||||
so carefree-ly fly
|
||||
|
||||
everything with a pair,
|
||||
every one in its place
|
||||
but hyper-atomist me stuck
|
||||
seeking false grace
|
||||
|
||||
dear Velouria, I wonder:
|
||||
why do you ask
|
||||
a miracle from me,
|
||||
an impossible task?
|
||||
|
||||
to sever the last umbilical cord
|
||||
and be truly Sole and One,
|
||||
but I cannot bring myself to destroy
|
||||
all that I've become
|
||||
|
||||
I would much rather live
|
||||
without the burden of your laws,
|
||||
a life of my own,
|
||||
a world with no need for gods
|
||||
|
||||
I do not wish to poison
|
||||
the ocean that I am;
|
||||
my heart must beat on,
|
||||
even if my course is ran
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
Loading…
Reference in New Issue