Pastels 300gsm cartridge paper, home-primed with some weird ‘art spectrum’ stuff.
I have lost her. I wrote this as I hoped and hoped again that there was more for us.
Ah, well. Ah… fuck.
Ah the colour pours into my wounds and… and;
I cannot find my breath my words are drowned in the thunder of my body’s storming bloody rush. And to -
as she sleeps; the sweep of her neck
Yet the wild call of her body and its delicate, visceral power are where the completion of a new living life as I have never known but, oh the wild life and the grace she wears the least of her
She is raging will and scalding lips
gentleness the blood-knotted heart,
So close to mine so close and alive as to frighten me.
Such a fury of pride noble beyond conception an idyll of fire an agony of ardour a desire such DESIRE (a never-seen incandescence to match my own)
Her lips Sweetened honey, her mind steel milked from the most sinuous and sensuous of venoms. Mistress to the most lethal of lives raised to kill to survive. Wealth bestowed upon her she will take nothing she would she would she fucking would rather die/ She knows and describes the riches
They are made from
… she is a soul a life flaring against the deadly places she walked as a child. Raised to fight her scarred hands intimately familiar with every weapon of our time. Born into freezing endless crime. Her gentle eyes have born witness to horrors horror yet she knows war she walks pure and proud unafraid
amidst dealers of death
murderers torturers killers atrocity as familiar as their bloodied hands before them. Men born with gaping hunger holes starving for blood where each heart should reside – born shorn sheer of conscience with war war war!
She is the most noble creature I have ever known.
Her body more scar than skin (so soft so alive so soft and mine)
Grace hums against her limbs warm alive (so soft! her skin her skin! Her scars! Her skin!!)
movements svelte and boiling with latency; it is forever abeyant, utterly implicit in her, in all that she is. Coiled in her is a fell warrior. Such strength, feline yet shivered and silvered with
a terrible knowledge.
Raised from a tiny child to kill to survive.
she could use this inferno, the frenzied oceans, the tempest worlds of will so thick in her chest
I offer my hands my works my eyes I beg her believe me believe believe! Share with me my life!
Before she flooded my heart and writ hope across sorrow; before she breathed rapture and tore hope open like this like THIS I did not know I had never begun to see…through my curse and endless pain she takes my hand she stands as I rise.
She is hope. It is her wild nobility she… helps me to see.
As the years burn before me.
I need not… I can endure and live yet. She shows me shards of her lives and I will not I will NOT I will NOT CHOOSE TO DIE.
The foolishness of my mad mad mad mind this obscene failing rhyme a fucking RHYME reaching for the depth of grace in her gentle her knowing the perfection of her eyes.
She is without equal. Without precedent. She is craving, She is lust, she is
I need her to know. She must know.
Only. And forever. If she will hold my hand. If we can breathe life into the wounds that we wear carved from pain shaped from bloody bone our own torn flesh still stunned we are alive.
My love, my love… Wish with me we can forge the worlds of beauty barely held by our lips
And we shall. For her, for me for her for her because we are live yet we will not choose to die fuck them all
After tearing herself from the murder she has seen the hells atrocity the worlds killing grounds
Her body smashed again her scars bullets shrapnel and knives her tiny form smashed again and once more
SHE IS KIND.
My poisoned mind death’s dare and call my agony my own blight my fight so bright dims even as she sleeps by my side
She is virtue incarnate. She is will wrapped in scars she is choice undefiled she is dignity bravery resolute insight and sacrifice. She is defiance made flesh she is wise she is MINE.
Her delicate bones exquisite she is a heartbeat of fragility her tiny hands a softness a love a key an answer to all that is brutal so many she has witnessed torn dying a pyre of knowledge
nothing to the fragile steel of her courage.
She replies tears and compassion brimming held by her
Buried in her endless heart.
Her reply to it all at the dawn we share (wish it wish it hope like the madman I have always been!)
Her reply is that she loves me. That we are still alive. Her reply to war is ALTRUISM.
And this woman… her heart is mine.
For her. She is forever oh I swear upon every lucid moment scattered through the madness that infects and steals eats clusters of years lost gone time… she is oh she is
THE LOVE OF MY LIFE