a death--For myself
I am about to die
of something of me
of something in me
of something green
mixed with bloody
madness--that oozes
like an ancient river
stopping everywhere
and yet keeps on moving
until nothing stirs
inside of it
inside of me
Death like a stop
of a continuous gasp
for a nihilistic breath
from me like a yawp
barbaric--ending something
like nothing ended
like a battery of stars
dead and alive and stuck
within nothing
within everything
The right hand refuses
no more dribbles
only the left hand
willing to start a drive
yet I stop when I
becomes forbidden--
forbidden laughing
forbidden joying
forbidden thinking
forbidden everything--
but mourning for that
I like but I lack
Nor do the pen nods
the paper white
with transparent tears
from the nose
of that something
of death oozing
stopping nowhere
and yet everywhere
like on that paper
where I would like to write
a simple phrase--
I am about to die
of something of me
that is of death
and yet I live.
--
--
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