The morning’s first light shines awake the frozen head.
Willful unconsciousness and another dive into seventy-two hours of self inflicted despair.
I wear that because you ask me to.
Thrive to challenge if love can endure the vice of vulture talons ripping at rotted flesh.
You say that you take this with a sigh.
The lines in the road etch deeper toward the poles.
You are an addict, then I am just a slave to it.
This feel disjointed and uncomfortable which may in fact be the point. The act of wearing in highly symbolic language cannot help but evoke images of the Persona. I wonder who is asking the character to wear something? Which is the power they hold over this character?
It’s kind of part two of the other posting I made about two days prior to it. It is disjointed and I’d feel better referring to these as “postings” or rants rather than something as creative or noble as a poem. They were written at worn out moments of despair- this one written at 7 o’clock in the morning upon waking from a light sleep alone after a night of drinking and then lamenting my lover passed out on the couch about as far from the position of love I had supposed. They were just a way for me to vent, keep from cracking a little more, a comfort where no else could I find one, a grounding and an admission to myself.
What power? The power of love to be given and taken in a moment’s notice without the control of either of the two- the couple presented here. The power of alcoholism. Something else I wrote around New Years “Magnificent Obsession” phpbb/viewtopic.php?t=142928 had a concordant theme; perhaps it is truly “part one” of this whole thought process.
I don’t know- it’s twisted what we do to ourselves!