Core

My loss is core.

My life is core.

My love is core.

My wife is core.

And I am core for

no one as they

have been

core for me.

And so my core

is hollow.

And everyone 

I have loved

has lost me,

because everyone

who thought they

loved me never

understood my

brain as something

to be treasured 

and embraced.

Instead,

in its 

bemusing 

capacity 

to contemplate

all, you 

call me and see

me as uncertain

being, to be feared

and fiercely resisted.

But no intelligence

has ever

hugged mine.

No intelligence 

who comprehends,

and doesn’t 

apprehend me and 

my

self as other core to

be rawly 

trampled.

I am the flower

you step on.

I am the grass

you crumple.

I am the tissue

you rip with

your cold-

hearted tears,

solely dis-

carded like dumb

game of luck.

And in analysis

ultimate, the wife

wins – out of 

sheer ignorance

of truth and

beauty and 

happy love and life

and soul

and art.

And it is I who

will lose.

Chiselled by

rhyme.

Chosen by

time.

You have 

demanded my

destruction.

And now you 

get to

get your demand.

Leave a reply:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s