Word paste

This paper was paste
this paste was a tree
a paper, a poem, a breath.
A breath stolen by greed
The greed of individual words,
sap of meaning and need.
A letter, a leaf, a finger,
tearing at the root of a word
angry branches in the night
voicing individual words.
And words have become swords and axes
sharp, a belly full of fungi and weed.
Words were the path and the limbs,
the forest fires.
A pause. A gust of wind.

We called it a sea

It is a constant pounding,

this come and go of tides.

The whitewash of feelings

To keep the ocean alive.

Tangled in a seaweed of grief

Salty words in the mouth

and stingrays at the feet.

The water was never less alive

When it was static

Only each moment was silently still

Undertow torn by the need of movement

Tragedy and longing of foam and thrills.

Algae wrapped hearts

And sand-filled hands

Promises of abalone and whispers of crabs.

Well worth it

And this is how it goes
That which happens to one is always most relevant
It was marrow cold
and once imprisoned into the body,
nothing could release it.

There was no fury, only
a dull anger of sorts.
Something in the hand
held, something in the body released.

Never have two been any less
or any more straight lines that collide sometimes
and let go.

There was a thump and
the silent blast of breath,
smog of a dirty weapon
in the cold.

Always it has been something
small that starts a war,

A shame so rooted that it grows into voiced pride.

It was blood cold
and the shoes well worth it.
Dawn has always been blind to violence and naive,
covering dead bodies with gold.

Both

Don´t talk to me about deserving
               I hear the crackle of the flies legs, one against the other like timber, lazily laying upon the                    child´s closed eyes.
Don´t talk to me about deserving
Nobody deserves to die.
               And you use a word like a shield,
               to hide away your fear
               and being alone is always safer
               than being together.
Don´t talk to me about deserving
               I wonder if her mind wanders through the same places mine goes, while
               I fuck for you to love me
               and she is fucked loveless.
We both deserve better, we both, we doubled, we threw, we broke.
We both deserved better, both of all, both.
Don´t talk to me about deserving. It is a poisonous word - a place where no one belongs and everything has been told.