I sit and to the left
Bold meaning hangs high.
That well-spoken half
Whose meaning through adornment
Tilted up and yet legible
I pause to ponder what protection is suitable
To preserve and still allow
Access into your last parting gift.
Riddle me this, O Meister of Misery
How now does your countenance sway?
The days race and whiplash takes me to you
Left side first on almost every morning.
Though your breadcrumbs have molded
I eat them daily.
Upload another chapter
That I may balloon my own destiny
Anchored to the will
To fly with this energy
That boils when the night is young.
I've cornered myself on the chessboard
Between a Queen and too many pawns.
Strategy is a black veil
That I must lift or tear down.
For this, I turn, to you.
Are your greyed reserves now blackened ash?
Have your tendons turned to jerky?
I know beyond a shadow that if your blistering heart still pumps
There is wisdom needing cultivating.
So give it to me, you intriguing prick...
For never before have I stapled my soul
To a memory that snuck in through a tiny hole of light
Devouring inhibition as you have.
You, the greatest source of intellectual income
Marrying my heart to my mind.
You, whose experiences left me dry for hesitation
And drowned for the communion of souls.
Two lines now for every point that requires discerning
Earned in the light of your regret and expertise.
Bolted to your door, my essay on 'Retourne chez moi'
Fuck these borders of land and thought. Come back.
And sewn into the wood of my skin with taciturn indifference
"Je demande des nouvelles de toi qui sont encore survivant"
Your words become mine and all this in between meaning
Fucks with my heart and my head.
Find me, Translator:
Let your body language do the rest..