Saturday, August 15, 2015

ariel revisited.

two. of course there are two. if i've killed one man
i've killed two.
you do not do. neither of you do, you

of your similar variations of eye color-
the monochrome is a hazel-green, brimming

with i can't tell what. i don't know. i'm smuggling
the fear of the unknown

from my country to my other countries.

it sees so we can spend our time
doing other things. let us ask it:
what do you see? what is it that we see?

we make it bleed and hope it dies
in order to get our point across that we want to see
what it sees. today is the origin.

that's not good enough.

we

soar past the tall mature trees.
all the same color (confusing
the color of currency with lush plant life), morbid
death-dealers,

who are you? who are you?
shall i find you all unassuming
in a game of guess who?

this is my rifle, for what it's worth: fuck you. fuck you.
i'm sorry. so sorry for your loss, alma mater.
now go continue to be alma mater, without
explanations needed

to back up clause after clause.

envious thrill seeking snake-apple
for yourself and your limitations

against freedom alone. i don't picture

my future.
i picture my freedom. it speaks to me

through the you who is not me.

do deep breathing. plan propaganda. smell
the meat- the cute little eighteen year old

whose parents aren't made of national currency.
you be a soldier, be with the

blood on your hands. that i did not dare
infect myself with. you and me. we
are a good fit. me. you. boom. boom. worm through.

pay respects. paraffin candle, make use of yourself
burn. respect,

pay respects on behalf of us,

nazi lover jew honey. i am your soul. pray.
pray to me.

this sickness is death, and death is how
i see it. everyone can tell; that's what
they'll begin to say

after we are through. and here i just thought
of myself as screwed.
the whole time they knew it was you.

daddy, daddy, you bastard, i'm through.

i never turned out to be made of meat.