2001-05-20 - 8:03 p.m. - poema_malum1

.lust. <--- the title.

[claws]

not chemicals that do me in

but men:

the day i was born i was doomed.

so help me god

i cannot keep away-

the sirensong is too fierce.

so. onward, through loathing:

for distaste too strikes

for crowds, in crowds, masses of people

teeming, leaving me with a desperate wish

ALONE

careens through my head

looms large before my eyes

blinds me and makes me gasp-

and yet, it goes on,

a longing for touch, his touch - who is he?

i don't know, but most will do

to have the illusion of support-

not any longer questing for that

but searching for the sake of the search.

within me, an ancient need grows large

i shine with its unearthly shining.

no time, too young, dismissed-

still you draw me back:

again, again, cry out-

it's no use, i find

intruding into my thoughts

becoming burning aching unbearable:

not even always men

but any word will suit

to name that hole:

length words ideas friends music

fall into the fires of me

like cells in gastrulation:

will something fill this master of needs,

this seeming need for need-

or shall i consume myself

hole expanding wildly to meet space

and perhaps at last redemption:

and is that then the only purpose of my life?

is the dying sun there

to shine upon twisted gardens of warped metal

strewn over the rubble-field of the cold dead world?

ask me what is my need:

to find out is my desire-

search for ideals, men that can't be found, illusion:

and my core remains...

i do not have much to offer

the assembled masses demanding

panem circensesque:

what i offer instead

of empty promises, empty dreams

IS

simple: a ringside seat

as men music words I life

needs wants desires

chip away at me

and turn the third-rate statue

into a first-class ruin.

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