Rococobean - Rococobean

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Sanded by Kara

Daydreaming of the sea again Sitting on its sore shore Waves like a collar and chain Flowing with your tide As the moon nears the floor Devoted to its own time

I never before felt this ache in my chest

when the lover on screen was found broken and dead.

But now

it's you. And it's me

in the story.

And when looking for death, there's no need to hurry.

My heart blocks my throat

I don't know what to do

Now the survivor is me

and the dead one is you.

the trees might be changing… but what about you?

Rainbow with a Black Pen

Crimson flash of pain

rusty orange dried blood

golden sun on sidewalk,

edged by mossy mud.

Clear blue rolling tears;

I crumple to my knees.

Indigo grows twilight

and violet my grief.

Like a Darkness

Stitching wounds with words

the pain remains but we smile

and pretend the blood was always there,

.

Singing dirges forged from dogma

my breath is a stranger standing

on the back porch with screen door open

torn between the sunset and the silence

that waits in the shadows in the front room

because the trick is to learn how not to

hear feel hurt dream hope sing want need

the trick is to tell yourself that all of this

was what we wanted from the very start,

.

We live in a derelict wonderland

empty streets abandoned houses

cars rusting next to single wide trailers

boarded up stores the old school crumbling

more people but not here no not here

where rusted barbed wire remembers

but we don't

Ain't it strange?

TV antennas like ancient talismans

that failed their only task which was

to let the world in three channels at a time

and keep us all from losing ourselves

inside of someone else's dreams

in artificial worlds that fade

as soon as nobody watches,

.

Your favorite song is playing forever

a transmission eternally out of reach

turn your eyes up to the stars

they aren't there but aren't they beautiful?

If we're lucky someday somebody

will say the same of us

I used to dream of death

or blazing, blistering pain.

A mark of martyrdom above my

twisted, tortured brain.

But now I sigh and dream of life

and care for all my wounds

No need to be a martyr

I don't need no cocoon

Me: You know how when you were a kid and you’d wish that you’d get sick or injured in a way that would justify why you didn’t live up to your potential?

Everybody, apparently: No?

hey man I found a piece of your soul stuck in the text messages of old friends you don’t speak to anymore. do you want it back

We have always been here

There is no I.

am i the central nervous system? the brain, the skin, the eye? the microbiome in my gut, or stardust in the sky?

the soul (what soul?), the heart, the breath, the hormones in my blood? the shadows splashed on Plato's wall, the people that I love?

the clothes on my back, the name on ID, the carbon in my bones? the air i breathe unconsciously, the place that i call home?

or am i just the nowhere man, the woman so alone? i am the dreamer of the dream, the - I - in i don't know

alexander heir

Acrylic paintings by Jason Limon on Instagram