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PostPosted: Sat Apr 10, 2010 2:43 am
by Saturn

I exist now as a sunspot,
A blemish on the burning
Face of your affection;
A vapour, repulsed off
Into the cold vacuum of
Black silence and forgot.
Here today, tomorrow,
Gone, whisked like a
Puff of smoke in wind,
Not likely to ever blow
Upon this beaten crag
Where nothing dwells,
Not even decay for long.
I'm an irritant, a spot,
A carbuncle planted,
A prime pustule that
Never yet has erupted.
Oh I could storm so,
I could wax mad, rave
And tear hairs as well
As any bad ham actor,
But my storms are
Locked deep within,
In the chasm of love
I feel it echoes now,
Its emptiness fills me
With a gaping sadness
Which nothing will fill:
An empty treasure trove,
Looted and melted down
Into the very atoms again.

So in the blackness I burn,
A sunspot, an imperfection
Waiting to be thrust out
Into the ice, and the dust,
Prone to destruction, or
Banished to remote parts
Beyond the reach of light,
Beyond the bounty of life.