by J. Lee
Nothing To Live For Is Nothing To Die For
Chilled nostrils by long breath
Drawn by lungs
In grimly adorned charcoals and chalk
At the height of my breast
As though dancing with each flood
Of drowning reverie pulsing through my heart
Released from captivity
Carried on a clement zephyr
Out into a vast array
Of all that used to be
Again, a long brisk drag of emptiness -
Wintry, resurrecting emptiness –
Caresses the larynx
As it journeys yet deeper.
Nestled now, in the lair of the beast
Unscathed as that which it is.
No beast or being will e’er see
The death of nothing.
And as with everything,
To nothing shall they all return.
A squall bursts past enamel,
Setting in plain sightlessness
The warmth of inexistence.
The flight of the unseen
As basic flesh returns,
Through iris hidden
‘hind indecent longings for darkness
As though to keep up with disappearances.
Pride. Jealousy. Lust.
Not deadly enough.
Not near prepared to enter this battle.
Which leaves but one reason only
To prepare arms.
Bring your Cardinals
Claim your Capitals.
For with this breath I echo
That drunkards and gluttons become poor
And drowsiness clothes them in rags.
Enter with an avarice
You feel a high enough power
To see nothingness cast into existence.
But as you see your cast,
Set your insatiable intemperance
On the stage of man
While you die an indolent
By the inertia staining your soul.
And as you exist there,
See your colors bleed into emptiness.
Knowing all along
No canvas once refused your brush,
Though wallets closed
When your Collector saw a blood that was not your's alone,
In a breath that was not your's alone,
Though a life that was not your's alone.
No profanity as selfishness shall e’er see you killed in such haste.