The Burning Doubt

We respired ash, and imbibed tar in

the haunt as it burned us to the

ground; the sound of us siring our

doubts to the air were loud and

crackling in the blaze;

My method is to envision all these

embers in the marrow of the

tenebrous void; consigning

smoldering luster to the emptiness

of our cavernous cages for cognizance.

I am that burning doubt behind your

iris...

I am the epicenter of your

forgotten kingdoms...

We breathe fire together,

yet in the end,

only one of us will remain....

[23:22|24.10.011] ©c.thomas.carter

A Remembrance of Pathways

A persevering and persistent

reminder of the schism haunts the

rods and cones; curdling curt

glances of the images and

memories into massive mosaics and

monumental murals; leaking

pigments like blood and bile from

an infected stomach wound...

And thus a remembrance of pathways

in the past is called up from the

depths and dungeons of the grey

matter, only to be closed off and

hidden behind cold iron curtains.

We all sing in our basso voices to

pull down the derelict walls,

widely painted with the gore we

brought and carried in our stained

hands.

Let us eat the dust of chalk and

lick the slate to sleight the

weight of the pressure on our

brows.

We reach each other with unseeing

eyes and tie our fingers in close

knots... and the tongue of your

kiss tastes of hemophilia... and

moth glitter.

[18:25|24.10.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Blotter of Blue Heaven

Big-footed bruiser, bringing brown hair

on heads to meet with the street,

shattering teeth; busting up busybodies

with orange open-faced cudgel

sandwiches; these meant to crack minds

with crystal edges...

And Jack and Joe take the flower out of

the pipe and burn further their lungs;

tasting blotter of the blue heavens;

giving sights to scenes of violence;

heady bickering and metaphysical

exchange for the "per-prose" of the

moments of intellectual money.

Joining these, my brethren, I feel of a

broken glass jar... tearing away flesh

the more it is fondled, dripping

raspberry-red blood down below to floors

crawling with leeches.

I hit my clock to feel the second of it.

Bend the chimes to hear harmony fail

once again...

For now I am slammed with Instant Zen.

[22:23|13.10.011] ©c.thomas.carter

I See In What You Say

In your eyes I see;

for my sockets are void of oculus orbs.

Thus, my plea; lead me, lead me.

Guide me on my way,

I see in what you say.

Tell me of the colors;

indescribable as they might however be.

Tell me of the stars,

the moon,

the sun,

the sky.

With angel-dust we fly;

and for the first time

I can behold your face;

long enough for my heart to burst;

and I can finally taste the red

and see it too.

[22:07|13.10.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Silent Game

Oh Jane, Jane,

If that's your real name;

I know you live in my head,

but you play the silent game.

You know,

When you spoke to me long ago

I became higher...

and higher?

Your voice was like fire,

Or flash electric sparks

striking ablaze my pyre.

[21:15|12.10.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Aesthetic Perpetuity

As technology stretches the second

further and further,

I become closer to

the oblivion between moments;

and simultaneously

the bitter front between

you and I

becomes an insurmountable expanse.

What more is the breadth betwixt us,

than the length of time the journey takes?

The space between us: a distance...

The time between us: a distance...

And these distances are being hedged up,

and becoming closer to closure.

As the progression of these moments

slowly decay to a speed of absolute zero;

We stiffen and become frozen works of

aesthetic perpetuity.

[20:49|12.10.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Piercing the Future

Motionless, movement divided instead by

the bridge between all moments, I find

myself piercing the future, and zipping

up the past.

The mind, traveling backwards and

forwards through time, however always in

a form of 'the present', lines are

connected from event horizons, the

travelling of the consciousness to all

of the bodies it can posess via means of

its ownership of them.

Piercing the future, piercing until the

essence of it is destroyed... time has

an end, assuredly it is so. All minds

however, will endure, and continue, and

progress further into the white shores

of infinity.

[22:10|02.10.011] ©c.thomas.carter