id & ego

7/30/2019 id & ego

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7/30/2019 id & ego


7/30/2019 id & ego


id and egoby j. kingsley

7/30/2019 id & ego


© 2011 j. kingsley III

all rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-105-04581-3

7/30/2019 id & ego


7/30/2019 id & ego


for jun

thanks forletting mesteal everything

♥

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7/30/2019 id & ego


an aside with alice(by jake & jun)

a tragedyinfused with nicotine andyellowed reels of film noir(an art house's wet dream)

a calamityconceived by analeptics andwhite ribbons of drowning fantôme

(an artlessness without seams)

still agonybrought forthin dripping red ransom(an art, or so it seems)

yet agonycannot dichotomizethe blue rabbits(an art junkie fucks the queen)

and the patronswith their looking glassesturn scarlet out of habit

(an artist paints the scene)

and the princesswithout her pale membranereturns humanity to the obscuration(an art is nothing but a dream) 8

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and all of those dreamsdripping red with sensationare meaningless(a vice in artistry, like the smoke that fills your veins)

but all of those dreamsripe with honey amarathineare nothing but meaning(if one should hold their breath for long)

'dream' - an amorphous wordis the beginning and

the end of aestheticism

(a vice in life).

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ketamine and kerosine

ketamine:

i forgot how to feel today.

no numbness nor painnor gnawing disconnect;

my chiral amelia.

my anaesthesia.

the one that made me smaller,whispering 'eat me'in your raw red voice.

my disassociation.

kerosine:

with eyes closed,

i am strangled by phantom hands:

my congenital absenceswith the deathly chillyou always assumed;

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my mouth filledwith pale blue lies,tasting of autoignition;immiscible.

(my bruises spreadlike your lipsand legs.)

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ironherb

bitter melon and kykeon;

we drink to forgetour poisons& maladjusted demons

you wear a flowerborne in dense spikesaround your necklike a small blue crucifix

& your eyesare fivesimple opposites;

cut petalssmelling sickly sweetlike honey flower& otherannuals

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mementos left in fire

like ash

white and dissolutea retrospectionof things falling apartso gentlyafter razed fantasiescherry-blossom cognitionsflicked cindersfrom the stem of your

new life cigaretteexhaling wispsof the remnantslight desolate smoke-ringsstale detritus:leftover reminiscencesaloft in dead grey skies

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live, damn you

you are not dead.

not mottled leavesturned to mulchby wayward feet

not dried tinderturned to ashby consuming flame

not lonely nightturned to dayby ever-flowing time

no,you are not dead.you just......stopped living.

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the hand inside you

you kissed me once

and left poetry on my sternumbeautiful scars

i transcribedto every faded single

and every last lucky strike

(like the moonwe were pretty

and off-whitecoming out at night

as subterraneansto make the world

a softer place)

i want you to knowi love you

in every verseexhaled

in bittersweet cyanide asymmetry

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pericardial

the doctors took me

and spread my ribsapart withconfabulations

(my sternum alreadyfar goneas rich pinkclouds

pressedagainst your pharynx)

and they whisperedwordslike athanasy

as they pressed haemostatsand aeortic cross-clamps

to stopthe fluxof amarettotinged delusions

& penetratethe cavityhidden away inmy bruised-coloured heart

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butall they foundwas pittedmemories

of bittercherries

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the lining of our dreams

back in the dark room

there are photographs i tookof every other horizontal scaron my forearmfrom your laceration phraseologies

your love was a contextual razorand you seemed to hit arteriesproffering body parts

for polaroid positives

(yet you alwayskept the negativesand deconstructed them

picking frame by frameto stick thumbtacks throughand press againstyour punctured peritoneum)

and our picturesare always corrodedwith the bloodstainsof our masochistic memories

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rust

blood flows

to the surface,dissipatingon contactwith theemboliyou blewinto my arteries,spreading your

cancer likean adjuvant;

aluminium hydroxideto treat thepuncture wounds& to forgeteverything else

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the worst decision

remember when

my heart spakesuch wordsso delicately?

you scoffedkissed itand swallowed it whole

sowhy can i still feela pressing againstmy adam's appleevery timeyou walk upon my grave?

(i'm not sorry.dead men can never apologisefor the bruises they leaveupon pretty facesand ugly hearts.)

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haemocyanin

my lips pressed against yours

-copper slipping into my mouthand in blue dosed sacrosanctitiesspilling down my tarnished throat

and you sighed malignantly-my weak-wristed vertebrae

in your satchelof wilted forget-me-not bouquets

grown lush in well-drained euthanasiaand clipped, pallid and ghostlikebruised asphodelic nobodies

'forevermore.'

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cyclical

sad, mournful music;

the cadence of angelswith heads bowedin teared reverence,grey faces elongatedin solemn remembranceof dying innocence

(the summer ended

with an old hunting kniferending selfid and egoto ripe red ribbonswith gentle precision)

an ashen funeral procession;their wings held backby black binds,blackened hands bound in stepand pale lips silveredwith dead dreamsand miscellaneous teardrops

(a letter in scarlet inkpainting in vivid huesevery crime never committedin guilt-ridden purity.penance in isolation.)

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the heavens are closedin leaden abstinenceas its occupants fallin tethered lines of stone;

a recession;dried muted voicessinging no longer.

(copper tonesreminiscent of earthfreefallinga devil's tear

walking a crooked linedown a broken arm;proclamation of sin;lamentation of loneliness.)

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blink

we dream of dreaming

but dreaming never comes;it is a bluras reckless nightsspent daringly aloneout-of-focus malaise;another duskas a circle of confusion;bokeh:

living hand to mouth

extra special bitter perspectives just solo spotspoints spread outfinite to infinitystars burning outglass bulbs brokenmercurial scentsindefinite;diffracted,incoherent daze,halcion days

early awakening:

reoccurring realitiesas a rebound;seven day blister-paksfull of charcoaled transgressions

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six out of ten

there is a lump in my throat

about the size of the clotin your heart with his nameetched so neatly upon it

and it blocks the poisonsi swallow in hasteto forget yourself-inflicted scar

of a face

and you stab yourselfwith needles and suchto mask the tragedyof a broken heart

(i know infatuationand lustbut my heartcollides with my ribcagewhen you sayit skips a beat)

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tincture of opium

i was pretty once

until an anaesthetised affairwith a razorbladeleft me as victor hugo's protagonist

and yet your angled wordswrought more scarsthan metal ever could

(and you smiled innocuouslyand mainlined illnesswhen you saidno, i don't love you anymore)

hypodermic precisionin your sterile-green realityreeking of anti-bacterial soapsand cauterised lacerationsthe world claustrophobicwith streamlined torture devicesutilised to maximum functionality

(but, ohi've tasted your rich aether

in thick sangria mouthfulsand like laudanumit is numbing)

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eight centimetre

extrinsic response

naturally nervousopening widerto importand exportambience;cool autumnal aestethics

relaxation

the flow of thingssystemic circulationof benumbed dilation:fasted adenosine;contraindicative-atria emptiedischaemic mind

relative fluiditydisassociative heartbeats:systolic/diastolic

induced effacementartificial laminaria

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in the month of striking

rain is falling

in daggered drops

and there is a killerin every carsnug and warma senseless foetusa desperate passenger

–

it is winter nowharsh and coldlike spirituous breathsagainst soft rosed cheeks

your tongue is gunmetalfiring off wicked wordswith little puffs of smoke

i am a targetcarrying sixpence gun moneyof your wasted shot religiously

–

you will dieand your brass will rustand i will place coinson your empty sockets 28

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fade out again

there are still scars on my sternum

from your wordsa silvered stainless scalpelcolder than wintered deathvivisecting a personawith frosted eloquence

there are still stains on your handsfrom my heart

a fragile bloodied fragmentmotionlessslowly dripping lifethrough feeble pores

(define:goodbye.)

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moonflower

i did not know lilacs ;

only your morning gloriesblooming chartreusein late hazyafternoons

& dripping

sweet ergineand methylmercury

into blue-green poetry ;

dreams oflapis lazuliorazuriteorsomething elsetinged with arsenic ;

but the sun always rises

& nowlilacs growdouble-floweredon your exhausted timber

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white& heart-shaped

with fruit

dry& cracking

birthing wordswith wingsinto the heavenlyblue aether

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on the outside looking in

it's the taste of a

bitter morning spent alone,cutting with your words

jagged and splinteredyour lips tracing skag needlesoutlines of our blood

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tesserae

an aberration in the tessellation;

i exist as an abaciscus ablazethe vitiation of your mosaic(cheap photobooth strips)

a penrose;a small silver veinin your gold leaf effacement(every smile a stain

a sorted abasementcut smalland smaller still)

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innocence

newborn spring:

flowers blossomingafter dark frosted rests

tender frailty;day and night coalescinginto satellite dream dusks

with fledgling thoughts

grasping outwardbreathing life into the horizon

-

break off fragments of the skyand keep them safe insidewith better timesof verdant awakenings

safe from the clutchesof off-white wintersand pitch-black nightmares

where they can take root

and burst:technicolour visionto monochrome patterns

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-

there is always a bit of day left

to chase afterif you wish to make the moment last

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morning

(We are the art house patrons you always write of

with your cigarette pressed against your lipsblowing phallic smoke ringspast your tinted shadeshiding from the world.

You are the Jim Morrison

I wish I never was.)

I'm cheating on youwith a thought miles awaysimple lines of poetryjuxtaposed into beautyand traded emotionslike shy smiles from childrennever worth giving away.

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middle age

waiting for death but she never comes only grins slightly

like a teasing schoolgirl her hand cold against yourmouth your split lips ripe with the cancer of poetry andmadness blasphemous love

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slight

the mirror died in a fit

of static and white noiseas the glass spider-webbedinto a veined, bleeding mosaic

and i sat as a cucurbitcatching the extract,the build-upof many soulless nights,

waiting

for the timeof distillation;of retort;of condensationof sins& delusions

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ritualized.

incense burns on our arms;

redoxed immaculation;

and we piercethe dividing septain our hearts

bleeding out everyentheogen:

the ambrosia ofour teenaged mistakes;every insufflated sedativewe routed and administered

just to stay inert;our normalcy.

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lonely

do you know Lonely:

that broken concrete nadir;the still moon on high?

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pay-phone conversation

oh, dear

your cheap plastic heartcrackedand out flowedevery sweet nothinglike bruised petalscovering the scarsyou left so disinterestedly

(never fear

it isn't as ifthis heart for memeant anything)

--

there are cigarette burnson the wordsyou left for mecarved into my armsand upon my lipsso that you would bein every embrace

and soft asidewith your ashen residue

(i know you gave itwithout a second thought;

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another playthingto be discardedhaphazardly)

--

your name is a sighsaid in transitionwith the sunand starsall blurringa fuck-all

to the future

(but soft

how a pulse still lingersa placebothinking you care)

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altruistic account

i. agent-neutral actions

blood-stained carpetsand another broken windowwith light pouring ingrieving the shadowsof the atmosphere

glimmering strangers

all-too-familiar territoriescoming out of the darknessslim wraiths upon the skindressed in scarletand fatalism

ii. aesthetic consequences

hollow confessionsto an empty roomwith dusk coming oneidolicallyto pose catechismsto splintered static realism

iii. the observer

dressed ambivalentlyhe swallowed in earnest 43

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and picked up the shardsall glistening in the dawn

idealism reflected reality

in sick grey simulacrafloating on the wavesof dispassionate aftermath

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derivative

i. acidic

you turn my blues to redswith anxiolytic phraseslike "i want to be burned by you"

minor tranquilizersspittle passedthrough parted lips

and clenched teeth

ii. basic

dichotomouslyyou turn my reds to blueswith diazepam wordslike "miss"

cut in halfmind and bodybetween addiction and affliction

iii. neutral

mixed reactionor no reaction at allreds and blues huedto codeine emptiness

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our librium existence sedatesynthesised amputationsomatic poetrylike "love"

and other cliches

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and i was a sunburst(for a brother)

there was a timewhere i could go outsideand stay dry

now it poursat all hoursand it seemsto cut to the quick

(no matter my apparel)

and the sunstays bleakbehind nimbostratus curtains

and the payphonesall coruscatelike the change withinis burningand burstingsparked powderlive fireworks

reminds me

of the timei saw you last

that dry july day

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you helped mefire bottlerocketsout of rusted old piping

it was my birthdayand it was the last dry dayi've seen since

but i still trywith that reddening tubehollowed outto shoot skyrockets

into cloudsrich with bitter beadsevery time my day comes around

if only in memoriam

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caught in the air

i will be there when you die

draped in vulgaritiesa death mask held firmly in place

you are the nicotine addictionand i the yellow stained curtainsof the loungewhere you fucked himwith needles and syringes

and your glassed eyesscreaming of hiroshima

(homology:you looking into the skyand seeing cirrusi looking into the seaand seeing flotsamyour virga fallenfrom on high)

microbursts cutting deeperknocking addicts on their headsleaving you to tend to themon the yellow stained couch

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i will be there when you diedry and shattered(we're only living nowadiabatic mistakes

and approximations)and you will know

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bokeh

you lied

and abandoned mewholeheartedly

and i playedsad songson my oldhollowed body

your pictureslooking at mewith yawning apertureeyes of blackand white

cutting linesperfectly convergingon the pointof your pupil

and divergingonce morewith no finite limit

(only aberratingaround serrated edges)

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scarecrows

moon-viewing on the cliffs;

she sighed and looked downward,whispering of stars.

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desire

death died last night

and ileft a wilted posie at his door

lingering a little longerin the streetlightschasing shadows and memories

overdosing on the perfect drug

a thoughtsolipsisticabandonment of responsibility

my semi-synthetic opoidlingering in my systemhanging aroundpalpably tensewith blood-shot eyesand blood-shot words

death died last nightand ileft myself at his doora wilted posie

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l dopa

i picked her a rose

i saved you the thorns

my lineage and ignobilitystained on the pricks

and you told mei left my tongue elsewhere

her lips tastingof mint cyanide backwash

reminding meof your serpentine smile

fabricatedfabergé eggs of discord

assassinating tsaristswith a flash and a fit

--

i picked her a rose

red and saccharine

i saved you the thornsrusted and pinned to my side

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cardiac

seventy-two words;

connective tissueembryonic;

striated syllablesfrom muscleto systemic circuitry;

your lipsand minein rust-tinted dusk;

diffusion.

-

five centimetres;

epitheliumvermilion;

stratified sensesin circulation;

passive;

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as dawn breaksblood-red;hybridisation.

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self-ignite

the zephyrs are coming down

full of hydrogen and inflorescencesbuds ever growingbut never findingterminal blossomslike the glowof the cathodein a sad housewife'seyes

every sodiumflare fallinga phosphorburninginside

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limerence

oh, my heart just burst

and i think that love is worse

-

(we’ve all got to goand i rather do iton my own timethan take any more

of yours)

-

my eyes are colourisedand the universe is pale

-

there is a brokenshaft of abone

juxtaposed throughmy throat

my adam's applecrackedand bleedingslenderphonemes

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-

oh, my heart just burstand i think that love is worse

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parts of tomorrow

heliographs:

-i dressed the moonin kairos blueand shot myself

to make me prettyerthan the mess

you left

(but you alwayswere the oneto ameliorate)

and now mymoon is bloodshot& haemorrhaged

-

sick hyperaemia:bleeding out

in glamour shots& scratched aperture

-

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beauty doesn't last forever;it can be killedlike any other animal.

(just aim for the heart.)

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specialty pharmaceuticals

she has a voice

of dusty rosein whichshe forgetsthe blood redsecrets smearedclumsily uponher lips

spreadingto phlebotomisewith a lover's caresswhen she says thatsome medications(as well as lethal injections)can only be givenintravenously

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life as a caveat

i: six nonlinears:

the asthenia of icein the brushstrokesof deep grey cachexia(passiveness);

nadeshiko variegationsgrowing stainedamongst moondust

and shadow(regret);

glaucous eyeslike inverse daydreamsthreadlikeand self-faltering(cut sonatas);

an amaranth cantatain merger withthe rose-touched continuo(bloom and rebloom);

celadon repose

as an urnholding pure whitelilium whispers(a breath);

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the feldgrauof an off-handfuturebetwixt soft

isabelline snowsof an aetheredpast.

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the swerve

she brought me

white clover boundwith cut red tulips

and spoke withtwo cut red lipsboth light& very heavy

of the oblivionwe seethrough feathered wings

and i pressedbruised pinkeglantine rosesinto her palms

as almsto the sadnessof things

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burdens of mortality

our bed is

lined withthe remnantsof novae

the shadesof whitecamellia;

the shadesof dreamswe live inwhere actionsnever speak;

the shadesof tearsyou shed

impermanent;ever-fading.

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weltschmerz

beautifully emaciated

she stands in shades of greyan aura of

straightrazor courtesy(plathian ennui disemboweled)acedia in the air

breathing anomie into her lungs

syncopated distress

a heartbeat;lingering sensationgripping deathkissagainst her façadequivering anticipation

and god is waitingin the sky

just beyond her limitations

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the tar you are, the tar i will be

you taught me many tricks :

how to be an anaerobe ,taking the wordsfrom my lungsand hanging themfrom the raftersto bleed and dry ;

how to be an acclimate ,livingwithout the ambianceof fractured voicesand fractured platesboth crashinginto the half-dead poetrydesiccating above our heads ;

how to be a short-dayobligate ,mirroring the deathflower chrysanthemumsyou evulsedas cankersores

and blackened tumours( ; cancerous couplets

with whichyou impregnated me )

from my obliterating fibrosis ,destroying my underlyings 68

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with pretty kiss chemical burns ;

but the best trick

i pickedwas learninghow to bea facultative parasite ,feeding on your poisons( as an ersatz ) ;an ogiku ;the ribbon

tied around your vein .

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on parole

crashing;

crashing.

-

outside,the air feelscaesuric;blessed with rain,

blue spectral lines;the cadenceof your lilt

and my scattershot dreams,possessions returned:

one copy of poems

by hart crane,burnt;

one copy of blue valentines

by tom waits,scratched;

one billfold,leather,weathered,empty;

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and one picture of you,faded,pristine.

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afterword :

my heart beatsasymmetrically

with your namecarved into its side

7/30/2019 id & ego


id & ego

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