Dinner and Some Woe

Disclaimer: This is completely fictionalized

Dinner and Some Woe

I arrive
dressed in good intentions
to find you
in a Satan dress,
your fiery desires
providing us with light,
like freshly lit candles,
casting shadows across your heart
and brightening what you call
your "important parts",
lying on the table,
two bloody breasts
waiting for someone
to suck the flavor from them.

The course is set
for a coarse evening,
your backhanded comments
already leaving
raw rashes
glowing on my cheeks.
I silently nod and smile,
trying to hide the falsehood
behind a forced laugh
so as to not seem impolite.
Blood drips from her chin
as she tares apart my heart
with sharpened teeth,
leaving nothing
but broken rib bones
and my vein attempts
to see the goodness in her.
She pulls some of  it
out from between her
decaying gums
(from all the deceit
she spews forth
no doubt)
playing with it like a string,
batting it back and forth
with her tender paws
only to unsheathe her claws,
ripping me a new one.

Having finished the meal,
she licks off the last drops
of blood,
blending in with her lips,
and prepares herself
to ravage the desert
that has been sitting
across the table
the whole meal,
a temptation quite within reach.

Despite remembering regrets,
my heartbeat enters hers,
two distinct drummers
trying furiously
to keep the beat
for the same disjointed tune,
unsynchronized and unsatisfying,
until she hastily takes control,
pushing my pounding tempo aside
to make room on the bed.

Sullenly,
she slips off my sore soul,
slinking away swiftly
without glancing back,
her scaly shins
and despondent sighs
rake against me
with equal force.
Rising slowly
from my cocoon of shameful desire,
I spread my arms
to feel reborn
as a broken man,
long scratches
running up and down my shoulders,
screaming for a drink,
thirsty for a sip of my ancestry.
I try to cry,
if only to feed him,
but she had sucked me dry
of all emotion.

Now I am just
a sorry sack
of good intentions
searching for someone
to make me more.

A Moment of Regret

A Moment of Regret
by Luke Muench

Grabbing you
by the chest
at the earliest convenience,
I lead you away
before my gut lets out,
spilling all my
despicable insides
across the cotton-white carpet,
leaving a trail of blood drops
filled with disgust and self-loathing
for others to follow.

From room to room we rush,
searching for a certain space
where we can shut away
and speak,
building boxes of burdens
to strap to the breaking backs
of our hearts.
For no one else
should ever see or hear
what we have to share.

Finally, we skid to a stop
in this dimly-lit den,
the sounds of others
drowning into the concrete walls,
the calls cut off abruptly,
sinking into the murky distance.

We sit down,
only for me
to quickly usher you up again,
severely unsettled
by the uneven seats,
refusing to look down
on a man such as you.

So, settling side by side
on the scratchy rug,
I look you square in the soul
and whisper,
"I'm sorry that I am
who I am."

The apology spans ages
in those eight words.

It's for when I took you in
as a companion
only to disappear overnight,
closeting myself
between the pages of my books.

For my disjointed mind
always wanting
to be there for you,
a willing hand
to lift the hurt
from your aching bones,
yet never knowing
how to take hold,
my grasp always slipping
from uncertainty.

For fooling you,
making you come
to the conclusion
of how my head works,
only to make the world morph
beneath your feet,
forming a finicky flooring
for you to traverse.

I say it
over and over,
the words spilling out,
uncontrolled,
jumping off my jagged lips
and into your outstretched ears,
hoping that their delicate lines
might be caught and cradled
in your understanding.

It sounds worse to me
when spoken aloud,
thoughts I could hardly
admit to myself,
let alone release
into the world,
an awful acknowledgement,
for another
to take hold of.

Eventually, I stop,
the silence ringing in my ears,
the quiet terror
that comes with waiting
for the worst.

He... smiles,
holding me by the shoulder
and says softly,
"Never be sorry
for who you are,
because I couldn't imagine
working alongside
anyone else."

Tears come unbidden
to my face,
and he holds me
in his strong and caring arms
as I sob fiercely,
letting all my pain
fall away
into the past,
embracing the future.

We Are One in the Spirit

For a friend's loss; I hope this helps you through the hard times and doesn't hurt too much to read.

We Are One in the Spirit

Please don't cry

in my wake,

love;

I hate to see

the sorrow

in your eyes,

reflected in

the droplets of depression

that run down your face.

Don't ever think

that I have left your life,

dear;

we will always have

the laughs and hugs

that left our chests light

with a fervent peace.

This is no time

to say goodbye,

hon;

you can never

lose another

who you have cherished

with an honest adoration.

My wispy hand

touches your soul

on the way up,

leaving a little piece behind

so you can find me

when time matters not

and our hearts

are intertwined

in His lands.

"And they'll know we are Christians by our love."

Long Live Love.

Fading Faith

Fading Faith

Week 1, the summer of shifting sadness.
What was I to feel anymore
in my gelatinous hole,
ever moving,
a gooey puddle of stifled sobs
and an unshakable uncertainty.

I remember the night prior,
an unprecedented mess
of searing gold
sizzling down my throat
and the burning distaste
for that friendless fool.
For I certainly wasn't
his companion anymore,
he slithering between my words
and beneath her sheets,
injecting poison into my chest
to boil and thrash.

It remains in my heart even now,
a toxic reminder,
sending my heart plummeting
into the stinging acids
melting away at all the hope
I ever had for myself.

And yet,
in four days' time,
I stand before
a crowd of kids,
confused and alone,
looking to me for the answers.

I brush the ashes
from the hole in my breast,
rising to the occasion.

The Devil's Work

The Devil's Work

Time stops for none but he,
they whisper in hushed tones,
cowering before the god I be.

They sidle past in silence, barely
daring to breath, their heads bent low,
cowering before the god I be.

"He holds counsel with Mephistopheles,
ushering demons to reign in the sun,
for time stops for none but he."

I hear them stutter and stammer timidly,
scorched by the radiance of fear,
cowering before the god they see.

But I am no deity,
simply swaddled in a cloak of lies
that time stops for none but me,
you fools covering before the god I be.

Airy Wishes

Airy Wishes
by Luke Muench

I leap,
the bough bending
beneath my weight
behind me.
The sky
calls out to me
with open skies,
beckoning me
to float in them,
to drift lightly
with the feathers and leaves,
a vibrant rain
showering me
with life.

My grip slips,
sending me slamming
against the hard earth.

But my eyes
will not be torn down.

The Quiet Companions

The Quiet Companions
by Luke Muench

Blue,
I flow,
a constant stream.
Loud,
I cry,
a startling scream.
There,
I run,
a reaching hand.
Here,
we dwell,
united we stand.

A Dangerous Thought

A Dangerous Thought
by Luke Muench

Floating
in the back
of your mind,
I wait.
Impatient,
unruly,
an agitation,
I wait.

Can you contain me?
I doubt it.
Can I you feel me?
I know it.
I make sure of it,
bouncing ferociously,
slamming myself
against your skull,
rubbing my coarse,
scratchy self
up and down
your consciousness.

But still,
I wait.

There's only
so much
I can do,
bobbing about
behind your
maddening mindset,
so steadfast,
stubborn,
stupid.

I want-
nay, need-
to break out
of this
calamitous cage,
my shackles
chaffing my soul,
melting my meaning
with an intense
inattention.

Yet,
what can I do,
chained to your
certain uncertainty,
unwilling to venture
beyond your
fleshy home?

... I can be heard.

So, still,
I wait.

Barrel Rolls

Barrel Rolls

My world
spins around me,
though I sit
stagnant,
focused,
alert,
undeterred.
Commands,
unconsciously,
escape my lips
for any
willing to listen.
My comrades,
zip in and out
of sight;
I help
as best I can
while spiraling
here and there,
barely alive,
trying,
desperately,
to survive.

With a final push,
we break through,
rising to the skies,
with victory
ever audible
and exhilarating.

A Breach in Internal Plumbing

A Breach in Internal Plumbing

Again and again,
I slam my head
against these bricks,
in hopes that
I'll get something,
anything,
out of it.
Ringing
fills my mind
with every crunch,
whispering,
encouraging me on.
Blood drips
down my neck,
clotting my ears,
blinding my sight,
I no longer
able to see
my foolishness.

I continue
long past
when the chimes
have ceased,
uncertain of
what else
to do.
And,
finally,
my time
runs out.

Flowing Forward

Flowing Forward

I hear her
in my heart,
pumping the blood
that keeps me moving,
if only
to see her again.

Lectured to Death

Lectured to Death

A stream of words
slap me in the face
while I helplessly
strain to hear
the ideas
buried deep beneath
the gibberish.
I dig ever lower,
with my pen, hoping to glean
some meaning,
yet only finding
my own grave.

I fall to my knees,
exhausted,
as I feel
piles of debris
slam against my back,
pushing my curiosity down,
my eyelids slipping shut,
hoping to escape
into my own mind.

The Death of a Sailor

The Death of a Sailor

Drowning,
I flounder about
for something to grasp,
some rotting flotsam
or the buoyant body
of another.
Waves crash
all around,
the seas shouting
with a blind fury
to float anywhere else
or just die already.

I consider the second option
thoroughly.

Haunted

Wrote this during J-burg staff reunion

Haunted

I stride down
these musty memories,
corridors I haven't tread down
out of fear
of remembering.
My one hand's at my waist,
the other covers my face.
I stumble through
a forest of cobwebs,
the branches catching
in my hair,
blinding my mind.
Terrors await
around every corner,
listening for my
faltering footsteps,
plotting to pounce
on my unsuspecting heart.

Will I ever find a way
to tear these thin shackles
from my knotted head,
or must I set them aflame,
leaving nothing behind
but ashes and wishful thinking?

Gasp

Late to an RA meeting; wrote this instead of paying attention :P

Gasp

Feet slap, frantic,
stamping on my sweat
as I sway
in a
chaotic step,
a boulder blundering
down the sidewalk,
uncontrolled,
unkempt,
uncertain.

My eyes dart wildly
to and fro;
my brain can't collect
any thought
in this
basket-case of a head,
heavy with heightened senses
and a heaving conscious.

I hurry on my way,
wondering where
my shambling self
takes me anymore.

Suddenly,
I stop.

Breathing heavily,
I slowly slide
the door open
and slip past,
with the most convincing
air of nonchalance
that I can muster.