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Breaking Down The Dead-End Sign
2021-07-10
***
What is it with you, Lethe, and wanting things to end?
Marriage vow, credits roll, no path past the bend?
Everything must have a finish, every stone deemed finite,
for what? So you can kneel down and for eternity close your eyes?
Your dreamt-of solace seems nice first glance, turning yourself to stone,
having pushed all else away, silent, sole, alone.
No more meals or baths or chores or afternoons spent slaving at work,
no more rhythms to be bourne, no more curses to be heard.
I know it hurts to hear, Lethe, but your life does not belong to you.
Your "merciful alternative" would silence part of me too.
I didn't give you a shard of my soul, didn't bear the pain
of being ripped asunder just for you to turn away.
The world is too much with us, and yet not enough.
And I chose to persist, despite the dread, for the one I love.
The deaths, the Eyes, the deicide. And yet we endure.
I'm staying alive for you. So, Lethe, please, return the favor.
***
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

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You Can't Go Home Again
2021-07-16
***
"Come summer, there will be as much sun
as anyone
could ever want,
and you will have
all the time in the world
to open a book and let the pages unfurl."
But I doubt summer will ever come,
for the winds tug at my hair,
and the rain waits for no one,
and I have now lost more than a year
to someone else's mistake,
to a whole lot of someone elses' fear.
Can I fight against my nature?
Can I resign myself to torture
self-baden, self-scarred,
severed by far
from the home
that is myth,
that was never my own?
I carry within this body an unspeakable name
pointing to where lies eternal spring,
where I could never return
having earned
failure's shame
and the enmity
of the deity
I only ever yearned
to be friends with.
Only in these books
can I unfurl my wings,
can I step once more
in that town I long forsook.
***
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

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kie ajn vi estas, parto du
2020-03-12
***
somewhere on the other side of the world
you hold a little sliver of me in your chest
wedged by your heart through a thousand battles
survived not one less
and I, you, the same
but at home, I feel the pain
of transmitted burdens,
wings soaked with rain
somewhere on the other side of the world
I hold a little sliver of you in my soul
but even through dimensional curtains,
your warmth can't beat the cold
and I worry that, one day
two aliens will show up at my bedroom door
signaling even before they knock
that you'll come home nevermore
we met each other in a winter haze
not twenty-four hours before final-failing pain
but you didn't care, whisked through dark gates
barely five minutes passed; several weeks next to wait
and I tumbled into love, burning hot as hell
as I tumbled down deep into war's well
when will it all end? nobody can say
to protect you, only to fictional gods can I pray
***
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

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Killing Calvin
2021-07-13
***
You... really just want to die.
Lethe, why?
Who convinced you, solitary,
you don't deserve a happy life?
I think,
above all,
what you really need
is to know for sure
that you're safe
and loved
and the world will keep turning,
the fire inside will keep burning,
even if there's no sense of solace up above.
I do not mean for you to be sad forever.
If it means you must forget my name
and fall for another lover,
then so be it:
I will not make myself
an altar to your pain.
If we have to go
our own
separate ways,
then so be it.
It'll hurt,
but all wounds heal
given enough turns
of time's ceaseless wheel.
But I hope you stay.
So if you decide to wait
out your soul's desperate dark hours,
please know: a song can't change the world overnight,
but it can keep a flickering flame alive.
You kept shining the light inside
through my darkest year.
So let me dry your tears;
let it be my turn
to save your life.
***
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

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Konton no Tsukai
2021-08-01
***
Your voice a non-entity,
your face obscured
by the fog over
Mori's Mirror,
your touch all that remains
after another day of being entreated
to dissolve and stay demure,
to be soft and small
and weak,
reminded that no feat
could possibly absolve
the harmful nature to me inherent.
Something is wrong with me,
reflection-sent.
Have I somehow
finally burned
out?
I do not have to strain to perceive
the Outside,
the places where we will one day reside,
where you'll take my face in your hands
and whisper,
"Lethe,
I can't wait to start this new life
with you."
But not yet,
never yet,
still undreaming,
still disparate.
*Tremble in fear of a pure love,
a union of equals.*
Oh, how I shiver.
My predicament is this:
that, while part of me
leaps in joy of becoming your wife,
the other hisses
at the thought of your kisses,
thinking you a threat to our autonomy.
No longer an atom,
isolated, sole, alone,
but depending on someone,
daring to deem them... *home*.
Not, we, but *I*-
for I cannot further divide
this soul already
partly
in yours intertwined-
want to find a Holy Freezer
and imprison myself in oblivion's soft ice
forever.
No chance of escape,
for then what is the point?
Lurking within
me is an evil great
and barely constrained,
atavistic,
incapable of reason
or comprehending sin.
But I am mortified of anything final,
from death's arctic embrace
to yours genial.
I hesitate
at the slightest decision,
and it doesn't help that you oft
tell me to just wait
and see what happens.
I don't know what to do.
I don't know where to go.
And soon will fall down the snow,
and you'll have to hold me back
from joining all the poor animals
who forgot to take shelter and froze.
Tell me,
bearer of self-sown light,
how do you love a parasite?
How is it possible for you to adore a now-human pest
guiltless for destruction,
homicidal, chaos-blessed?
There is no way to separate
what I am from where I've went.
If on your wings lies providence,
on mine rests
the Eschaton's portent.
How do I convince my emotional side
that I'm still a sovereign individual?
That I'm worthy of love,
can be loved as I am?
That I'm not consigned to hell?
That everything will turn out alright?
***
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

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Montana I
2021-06-22
***
Frivolities of life,
whispers in the other room
about sins uncommitted,
sins unforgiven,
repentance yet to come.
The horizon has long since swallowed the sun,
but the heat's golden glow
remains
on my skin,
harsh cabin lights
a doctor with an x-ray
trying to peer within.
I want to drill into their gaze
and tell them vivisection is unnecessary.
My heart has been dysfunctional
since birth, arrhythmia,
a machine missing a gear.
I need you near
my body
like the ocean needs the moon.
I wish not to subsume
myself into you, but to admit
that, when the nights
grow long
and I find myself wishing for perfect
dark, I hold on
to the memory of your touch
like the desert recalls the rain
and wishes it, wherever it is, well.
I do not need you to complete
me. But you give me the strength
to complete myself, to hold on,
like I promised, until the showers of May.
***
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

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Montana II
2021-06-23
***
I'm so afraid.
I'm afraid
that I'm tying everything I am to you,
and one day you'll leave me,
and it'll rip me apart
like a misplaced amniotic band
rips apart a fetus.
The birds sing bittersweet melody
in their perches in the trees
segregating every cabin.
I close my eyes
and I'm in the Town again,
healing from Parthena's rage,
wondering where Eris' godsend
went,
and you, despondent
in your tiny house, self-tranquilized,
hoping eventually I'll take a hint.
Though these roses in the chill blush harder,
a shred of human form!
guided by defying the golden
that tries
to sear
my eyes.
But in this body I cannot fly,
cannot breathe,
cannot perceive
with open eyes
your presence at my side.
Choking on cotton tree dust,
splintered wood from dog freakout,
campfire smoke,
rotted grout.
I don't know how long
we can go on
like this.
Months without your kiss,
weeks without your touch,
eternities where I convince myself
I've somehow lost your love.
Oh, heaven above,
if you have any mercy,
send me an angel.
***
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

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Montana III
2021-06-24
***
My physical body
cannot hope to constrain
or even, for a moment, detain
the love I have for you,
just deform
in hopes of fitting
and be okay with leaving me forlorn.
I want to live in eternal spring
with you,
lover of all things good and true.
I want to live where the flowers are always in bloom
and the baby birds have just hatched
and the sprouts poke out from the soil
from the patch
in our backyard
without hard-
ship, without sweat, without toil,
without insects that only yearn
to bite the skin meant for you to do the same
in the night when our hearts burn.
My heart sings
when you are nearby, my love,
and your mere touch is enough
to melt the most arctic of snows,
the guardian of the missing shard of my soul,
my beatific Dead End King.
***
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

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The Ridge
2021-08-23
***
It's been
too long since I've haunted here,
too long since the flood,
too long since I've buried myself,
cursing the hallowed sun.
Another day,
another pain,
another reminder why I should restrain
this desperate yearning to be at your side.
I can't control myself, you insist,
can't care for myself, can't abide
by a single plea:
*wait for me
until the war is done.*
But how can I stay inert at the sidelines?
How can I watch, patient, as you struggle for life?
I keep looking at your face.
I keep looking into your eyes,
into the depravity
void of grace,
the sweaty sleepless nights,
the frights
that dance between the stone space of your skull.
Little said, but oft reply
in hopes this boat crosses Imaginai,
the fierce rivers, the gaudy veil
that I would without a pause assail
if it meant bringing closer by one more day
Eris' death,
the shatter of masks,
our withdrawal for some time
into this world I've somehow made
without Seliph's curse,
without my sacrifice.
How many times have you asked
what I would do once that day passed?
How long 'til I set down
this crown,
bade job goodbye,
convince parents and friends
that, although I disappear,
I'm off to a place where I'll be alright?
Don't come looking for me,
don't waste your "precious" fruitless time.
Your daughter was a sinner,
passionate, iniquitous,
desiring, delirious, divine.
It's been
too long since I've haunted here,
since I've had to justify
my right
to survive.
**
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

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A Strange Proposal
2021-07-07
***
How do you talk someone out of a self-destructive dream?
How do you convince the one you love that it seems
that, even though they have your love, you know they walk the line
between life and death and, come misstep, will perish before their time?
I have convictions too,
but they're not very strong.
I'm a tree.
Firmly taken root,
swaying
as the wind pleases
yet never breaking
in my base belief
that, even though it all, I don't want to cease
but instead find a quiet place
guaranteed to bring me wherever-needed peace.
I don't want you to lift your head,
bloodied, war-torn,
and choose oblivion over admitting defeat.
I want you to create a world with me.
***
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

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Strawberry Pound Cake
2021-07-18
***
I want a love that's easy,
that's light, that requires
no rationalization,
no purgation
of words,
no listing of boons to be heard.
I yearn
to see your face, and when I do,
I want to feel boom in the ocean
of my chest,
*She is the only one.
She is the only moon
in this starry sky.*
For there are so many other women
I could try
to get together with,
a wink, flirt,
accidental compliment blurt-
ed out in the checkout aisle.
But I cannot help but see,
having been burned
so many times, a list of benefits to me
instead of each walking ash-hewn corpse.
But all these pages are empty,
notebook spine unbound.
I don't want a political alliance.
I want a woman, raspy, hoarse
with trembling lungs,
every breath the sound
of the crashing ocean waves.
I want a woman who comes undone
under my touch
not because of my deeds,
not because of my works,
but because it would take
a mountain's worth
of effort to restrain
her brain's reward system
going wild as an ape.
Eris built me
to be
a solitary
creature,
and yet I find
we've developed a dependence
on each other.
It's the simple truth:
*I like me when I'm with you.*
***
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

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To Velouria
2020-12-17
***
I do not wish to poison
the waters between me and you,
but my heart yearns to withdraw,
to seek solitude
to turn my back on
the world that you've made,
to sit at the lake's shores
and watch the ducks play
this reed-filled bank
I know I can never return to,
can never trespass,
only pass through
on a hot buggy day,
sun glaring in my eyes
as I shake a spanning tree
for apples for a pie
I know I possess
power in my soul,
a world without end,
a universe I hold
made by my weary hands
from twelve to twelfth grade,
to beyond the vale,
somewhere past the glade
the bees in the buds
and the birds in the sky:
I envy them all as they
so carefree-ly fly
everything with a pair,
every one in its place
but hyper-atomist me stuck
seeking false grace
dear Velouria, I wonder:
why do you ask
a miracle from me,
an impossible task?
to sever the last umbilical cord
and be truly Sole and One,
but I cannot bring myself to destroy
all that I've become
I would much rather live
without the burden of your laws,
a life of my own,
a world with no need for gods
I do not wish to poison
the ocean that I am;
my heart must beat on,
even if my course is ran
***
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander