Trust Me

catastrophe-jones:

The disasters we perpetuate
on one another,
if added up,
would weigh down
the strongest of giants,
the most powerful of angels
and demons.

If you will not submit,
I will call truce.

I will meet with you
in the garden,
and I will offer up my hands,
and lift to you not surrender,
but offering.
I will tell you,
that if we cannot
conquer one another,
perhaps we were simply
meant to rule,
together.

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Trust Me

The Spaces Of Me

catastrophe-jones:

The Spaces Of Me

There are times
I think about
singing to you,
calling you up
from miles away
and singing to you
all the songs
that used to be ours,
but aren’t anymore.
I wonder if
you gave them away
like I had to,
to make sure
there weren’t empty spaces
where you’d once been.
Did you fill up
the spaces of me
so you could push me away,
or did you only realize
you had to do it
after the fact?

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The Spaces Of Me

The Stings Our Hearts Get

catastrophe-jones:

The Stings Our Hearts Get

You might have been
my first,

leaving me humiliated,
wondering what I’d done wrong,
how I could’ve been better
for you.

I realized later,
when I heard she ate sticks of butter
and cut herself for attention,

that sometimes
the stings our hearts get,
as children in love,
are like vaccinations,
for later relationships,

to keep us from getting infected
by idiocy.

What I learned from you
was that…

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The Stings Our Hearts Get

Because I Plan on Living Forever

catastrophe-jones:

Because I Plan on Living Forever

I won’t give up our secrets
until you’re cold
and I have stopped mourning you.
(or maybe before; how could I ever stop?)
Then
I’ll take out a 2 page ad
in the New York Times,
and tell the world.

I know you think I mean him,
stupidface,
(but it’s you, it’s you, it’s always been you)
but you’re the only one
who will hear
“Fuck Off”
and know that I mean it
(full of nostalgia)
in all the best of ways.

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Because I Plan on Living Forever

Sky In My Pocket

catastrophe-jones:

Sky In My Pocket

When I was a young man,
I did not tell anyone

about the time
I tied feathers to my arms
and tried to fly.

I did not have the gift
Icarus’s father had,

of being able
to build something
perfect,
and instead,

I did what I could.
I built something,

anything,
and I used it
to reach for the heavens.
I failed,
and fell,
but I have
a little piece of sky in my pocket,
and I carry it with me,
wherever…

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Sky In My Pocket

He Realized Who He Was

catastrophe-jones:

He Realized Who He Was

Like always, the world was darkness, and then blinding light.

Sound came first, like thunder.

“No!”

It was his own voice, but he hadn’t opened his mouth. His teeth were clenched, and he could feel his body running.

“GUN!”

That sounded like Hayes, one of the students in his war games sessions.

“Drop it!”

That was a teacher, but he couldn’t remember which one.

Too much, too fast.

He opened his…

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He Realized Who He Was

This suggests a form of Love that is ecological in its thinking, which is to say, a Love that considers the myriad relations and inter-workings between entities and energies on all planes of existence. Such a love is, of course, “hard work,” necessitating risk, failure and blindness, among other pitfalls, but also insuring potential union with “others” in ways that conventional ideas of love may not encourage. This more cosmic love stands in direct relation to an unknown, which is both fearful and catalyzing. It also interrogates the possessiveness, materialism and codependence – in a word, the fear – rampant in certain ideas of romantic love.

Babalon in the Flesh: Jack Parsons, Marjorie Cameron and Thelema, http://peopleofshambhala.com/babalon-in-the-flesh-jack-parsons-marjorie-cameron-and-thelema/
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