Torture the Sky
Compare now with then and be left breathless
By illusions. Muster images of a perfect world:
No eternity, no burning. The stars have been traced
And we still can’t see what they measure. The distance
Between self and infinity is a key. Unlock the vision;
Believe in what it means to be “saved.” How broad
Each stroke? How vain? We are stars, exploding
You are a sky, imploding into a portal: an eye:
A creature beyond understanding. If manipulation
Is everywhere, where is truth? Which projection
Is best kept visible? Insanity ascribes meaning
To even the smallest coincidence; so how do
We change? Someday these songs will end
Until then, we put our hands together
And bask in the thoughts that bring comfort
Whose hands? When? A question
Lingers on the tongue;
Dissipates

Spoken word part 1:
Crushing, this search for meaning. Empty, this skull, now
Pleading, for a blockage, a seal. Stamp the wax and watch it dry
Into something you believe in. What is belief when a voice can
Take any shape? What is a ghost when the soul doesn’t exist?
How do we see? How to form meaning out of mud—
How to crumble—everything wet dries eventually
Spoken word part 2:
Every storm becomes a sea. Water gathers in a body, a cult
A gullet, poisoned. We believe anything that grants passage
From this world; we get buried, we want out, we want to escape
Being alive is the hardest thing there is. So be reborn. Launch
Yourself outward, discover new stars, trace them, and if we cannot
Breathe underwater, within the lake, at least we can see