sin-eaterHow I wish to be a sin eater,sin-eater by Philliewig
Here among silent faces
Here in this place of a thousand suns
Here where only the wild ones grow.
Here I'd wish to be a sin eater,
Where neatly hung up, rows of crosses-
How I'd wish to be your sin eater
Where only white lilacs bloom,
Where I'd come up for air
-where I'd go and find them there.
But here I'd like to lay a while:
Neither I nor you in satin there,
Confessed things, professed things-
All in all to precipitate
The growing silence.
And here I'd like to lay a while
And how I'd like to take you away,
Some day before the drone hour,
Out there beyond the stone flowers.
And how I wish to be a sin eater,
How I'd wish for us to be brave;
One by one the lights go down
Until at last
These northern lights are snuffed.
And now eyes that may never meet
Hands which would never meet
Are clasped under the brave new skies;
They shudder in a brave new world.
Lacrimosa VIIVII: Requiem LacrimosaLacrimosa VII by Philliewig
Find me there among those stone flowers,
Indexed between Duchamp and Camus;
May we give our regards to the dead
And move on.
Lacrimosa VIVI: the fallingLacrimosa VI by Philliewig
We had their calling cards, and they ours now.
We assumed there were words for these,
When they all knew there was one.
But only once before entropy
Swallow us whole
Would they cradle me,
Amid the yellowed flowers, there
Fixed there among the stone flowers.
But all these things,
Arranged by time, name, place,
We disregard to feed the growing smoke,
All in all to feed the growing smoke.
So call me an optimist
For all that I knew;
Drawn out on canvas,
Like my passe suicide-
There was nothing quite like that
Which we would create,
Freefalling in our panoply of glass
I beg you to see me,
To save me.
So call me an optimist
For the things I drew,
All with indelible black ink
All written in these yellowed pages
In which I wish I knew the words
With which to reach back again,
To reach back out again
To ask you to touch my heart.
I cry out,
In freefall I beg,
If only you would see me,
If only we weren't shadow;
All these things in the black ink,
Written in the yellowe
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