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Poetry

  • 4/20 Confessions

    That night was
    Different,
    For I felt the same void breeze
    Once before in a different place,

    And I knew that you
    Were too like that place:

    Different.

    Those shores down the line
    Coasting shy from sky to sky

    To bring us the currents of
    That old breeze, carrying
    Familiarly new feelings.
    Each sensation,

    Every single molecule on my
    Hands as they grazed yours
    Endured a mini apocalypse
    Like my skin went nuclear,

    And from then was irradiated
    To be a clean slate
    Upon which you
    Claimed me.

    And I was happy then
    Even before the rockets burst
    To be willful to your
    Power, your yield

    When you stay your hand
    And declare, “bombs away!”

    Your mercy and care
    All rolled into one night.

    Rolled like the joints
    We would never touch
    When offered at the
    Restaurant later that night.

    Confessionals are always fun
    For me
    But as we’ve both found out
    Sometimes the truth hurts

    Is it worth knowing
    All the variables
    And what they do
    And have done?

    What effect might that have
    On you? On us?

    Are we allowed to endure again
    And undergo regrowth?
    Turning the soil in our hearts
    Over again to let gamma rays

    Pierce through to the core
    Of every shell-shocked nerve.

    The truth hurts like nuclear
    Bombs on a day destined

    To end this way.

    We’ve recovered already, driven
    By androids, turned by waves
    Further down the shoreline
    In stories you weren’t a part of.

    Let those rockets fly
    And christen the world
    In explosions as many
    Times as it needs to see

    Thermobaric mushroom clouds
    Collapsing over you and me.

    And after that
    I want to feel the ground quake,
    Volcanos to shake and tear
    Apart their heads and shout

    Boiling, vociferous magma
    Across the sky,
    Trailing ash lit by lightning
    While thunder follows.

    My confession before the
    Apocalypse
    So your god can see,
    And that I may be absolved,

    Is that you have always
    Had that effect on me.

    I have always walked
    In the spirit of your words,
    Of dust shadows splattered
    Across walls by the force

    Of light ripping through
    The now-charged particles
    Of a human body
    Rippling with electricity.

    This confession is in
    Each doomsday you make me
    Feel the weight of
    In all the best ways

    Because I know somehow
    You can bring me back
    From the dead with a
    Touch and a whisper.

    So that night while I
    Learned about you, I
    Began to stifle my fear
    Of memory loss,

    Instead focusing on saving
    Every moment like it was

    My last.

    Now focused on making those
    Thoughts permanent
    And desiring destined-like
    Rings to appear on fingers,

    And to hope that we can
    Pull anything we want
    From
    Thin air.

    Your lips, your lips,
    Apocalypse.

    This is the truth
    That I want to endure.

    In every moment I can
    Think of being my last,
    Every bomb, bullet,
    Disaster, starvation

    Each thinkable end times,
    You’re the one I want

    To end time with.

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