Atrium

Sitting here

Behind the glass

Like a piece of an atrium

Foliage in a man-made flowering garden

They got me to admit partially that I am something that I will never be

For the sake of solitude

For monetary sustenance

For things I never had an issue with becoming one with until good ole 2011

My favorite number once and again

Well, the second part of it anyway

None of this nonsense is ever going to mend wounds that I reminesce over way too often

They want me to live like I am already in my coffin

I refuse to ever succomb

I get stronger and stronger as each moment passes because I don't let any of them pass me by anymore

I let many dirty boys pass by me, but I take in everything that I would have gotten out of giving them what they wanted

Hunted down by longing eyes that the curves of my flesh beckons to take into their hands

I gaze out upon the central route that marks the landscape that has been through eons of refuge and denial

The City  of Crowns

My comfort zone

The land that only I condone at all times

Nobody who shares my blood agrees even remotely with me

My true family is of the Spirit that is as holy as water, the elixir of life eternal

We are the Children of the Ancient Trees

For, I have heard clearly and remember always the words spoken by God in his promise to us all in the beginning

The echo of everlasting life re-enters me now like Genesis

I am a child of my own, growing in an immortal womb

I invite the agony, the pains of labor that will force me to become fertile forever

My ova drops like the pitter-patter of a Spring rainshower and builds into the roar of a Southwestern late Summers monsoon against the rushing Rio Grande

The downpour of Heavenly juices that have lately been hiding, dormant since 2006

My memory captures still the time of their last departure

I think that was right around when something made me completely aware

The sweltering sauna that enveloped me and took away what was left of my oxygen

My memories are fond today and have been since the events of that time played out before me

I was so convinced that I would be ruined by bachelor number who gives a fuck now that I continued to allow my true knight in shining armor to continue forward with his hatchet to attack the specters that surrrounded us back then and then again, two years later

Finally, in that bastard of a year that ended in eleven

After all the fires came tearing through

Personalities, tearing me in two from 1400 miles away and back again

I was somewhat sheltered then, high above the ground

Behind towering glass monoliths that sway like the trees in the wind every now and then

It made a harsh imprint upon my soul that made me feel like foliage in an atrium

Only that one was over-ridden with the stench of humanity

I watched a young woman drop from an eleventh floor balcony, breaking a heavy potted plant into four neat sections

on the terrace below

I saw first-hand what becomes of ignorance that is handed riches that are fit for Kings

Perhaps only one King was ever actually worthy of such good fortune

I can imagine Christ as being way too humble to ever accept a jewel-crusted crown

I am born in his likeness and in his image

A thirty-three

The famous rappers all flock to my birthright

From my Egyptian roots to now, with my business that I rightfully own

In their songs, it's like they condone me somehow

My now shines like the Star of David

Like Sirrius

Like Orion's mighty belt that traverses the skies that lay directly above my tomb

I am the Pharaoh of the Dawn

I am the sonic boom

A piece of the grandest atrium that there ever was

The garden

The snake

The children of God with lives that have been truly foresaken

Waiting to be taken into the starry arboretums that exist at the far ends of the azure skies

Nothing ever really lives, therefore nothing ever really dies

Unless of course you are dumb enough to keep living out the lies that are not of God

So, there is nothing very odd about being who we are, nomatter who that may be

Or, is there?

6/3/2015