The eye that was promised blood: Blood C poem

Life became still
as there was no life at all
a microcosm in a microscope
a scalpel trying to give me an un-contracted biopsy
and slice me with a legend twisted, construed —
I spent fighting
I spent fighting falsely
I spent fighting falsehood…

those betraying memories
seem tender in a way
like a shell broken
yet with the essence of a crab
pincers hurt yet gave me a thing
to feel
to rely on
like when you open your windows
and touch light

light can blind light
dark can bind dark
like fetters on my bosom, feet and neck
lashing on the mythos of a carnivore-carnival made to tip to nothing
they began a chaos
and in me a porous equation found
like sheets of water
shining under moon
flickering on my blade

mythos is mythos
no comfort in a cold fable
I am but a improv actress
dressed on a joke
not knowing the jest

yet I have seen the light finding light
a sword that caresses my own
a figurative heart that is not under construction
not polluted by the opiated need of hunger
I had found me

under yarns of flesh
and blood-black uniform
under cloaks and daggers
and coffee hazy even to itself
I had jumped
I had fallen down
burned in sun
rusted by rain
only to begin
where the last dot lay waiting
to find ink again

I can run now
leave the fractured cocoon
make a way

to the world not understudied…

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