if not human

Lazarus

This eclipse of myself

Foreseen by captors of the night

Suffice till come the raging light

Almost a holy vacuum

Of peoples of new ages

Slowly setting up the stages

Wherein I lie like the bastard

That allowed me room to be

Whatever it is that I seek

And so when the passage lay

At the feet of peasants today

We may seem array

Or whatever it is

That calms you

That breeds you

Or whatever it is

That loves you

That leaves you

Come back nay again

For the passage has unrolled

And we head home

It was cold as I lay

On my bed lead with nails

In striking detail

Of my lover's last quarrel

In the scape in which I once was

And once was always again

It was because of myself

That I beseeched myself of duties

Lining solitude into the moving

It was cold as we discussed,

Of ice trickling down to my feet

To notice the crevices beneath

And to lay into my body

So vigorous and half-warmed

That we may enter such a storm

A storm in which we wait

For timing's just on its way

To close out our day

And to close it out

We must

Trust

I stayed alie too long

So I craved the wait

And so set my slumber down

The soft set of slumber

So delicate may it be

Oh to be

It left my body in increments

Segments of myself unloading

Until it may separate

First came my head,

Housing such violent eyes of violet

And thoughts of rashing dead

It leapt from the bed

So smooth was it

Oh smooth can it?

And that gave way to my shoulders

Where rested the best of my hair

And the broadness of God

Lined with marks of past lovers

Such a silent way of saying knives

Knives bleeding fine

The shoulders connect to the torso

As I hope you know well

Maybe you don't

But the torso lifts like an angel

The paleness relates heavily

To my loss of purity

The wings are my arms

Muscular makers of man

And divine creations of God

They tanned from the blazing sun

Bronzing beneath heat so clean

The devil and such may scream

They define themselves so well

Unto the skin they lay beneath

Protruding just to cream

As they lift us above

So high do they lift

Oh become such glorious sin

They lift myself to move along

To the side of the chamber

And move my legs as well

Oh the powerful legs

Bestowed upon me by Achilles

And bled upon by babes

Such rigorous fiction

In the cause of mediating myself

As someone less of what it is

The striking of a clock

As I sit on the knock

Of the bed once locked

The strikes in which a chime

Deadens around my chamber

Bouncing across this castle

The sound is full and rich

Like the men who sing of Emmanuel

And yet suffer such the same

Like the flocks of women

Adoring for a man to love them deeply

In more ways than one

Like the roar of a lion

Behind closed doors it comes

And just as she

The sound ripens unto my ear

Clicking the verbs into fears

Oh must the light be dear

In which we never spoke

Like calms of the woke

On hark on this

The clock continues in spades

Until mortal flesh is cut

Straight from its soul