the rome of pome and den sum

Doubt has never been my forte
But certainty. Certainty over the way things have been and will continue to be.
Can love be found in repetition? Or is that simply subconscious hate against the chaos in
the universe? Ache, fulfillment and draining,
my body being drained of its tumbling gold fishes.
O
lovely fishes, do grant me some wishes

She told me, that certainty is a blue scaled devil who visits, sits on my breasts in the night,
his tail whipping a frenzy. Pressing me down. Why I cry on certain mornings when I have
run out of cigarettes. That I have succeeded, having driven myself insane. Having driven
my body of its fumbling gold fishes.
O
lovely fishes, do grant me some wishes

Already I am certain of the motions of his lips, haunting against my ears. Already my
fingers are rising to my face, once there, they shatter and crumble.
I can't pick the pieces, the clumps of flesh, up
even if I want to. Yes, they slip through, out of my body, these bumbling gold fishes.
O
lovely fishes, do grant me some wishes

Sometimes it is better to cry alone, fishes. Don't let them hear me make the sound of ugly.
Don't let them hear of how the day rubbed me raw, darling fishes! I am certain they won't
understand the rupture. It won't end!
O wail! wail, you, beached whale!
I've been cast out of His watery embrace…this laughing God,
That grotesque masque swinging nonchalantly in the sky!

O lovely fishes, do swim, I wish you'd swim me out of here.
Swim this frieght train soul into teal colored grounds; I will not miss this body of stubborn
thighs, of broken memories, of mangled fingers...
Swim me into damp sepulchers,
tumble me out
and toward decreation.

©hRj 2006