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Micah Alex Oct 2017
I haven't written at length for a long time now and my maelstorms are worse. I haven't written for my heart and the protest inside has reached a crescendo of violence. The dam is at its limit and I am the explosion waiting inside. My conductor has quit and the orchestra has lost its sanity, timbral destruction and cymbal apocalypse. I watch helplessly the drowning flutist and the bleeding pianist. Whale song rings in my ear all the time, and I am tired of this dismembering dissonance. My nostrils flare in the polluted river and the acid water has reached my lungs. They burn with the intensity of jealous stars and pull me in like black holes. Sometimes the heat is too much and the cold offers nightmarish dreams of death. So I bear the burden of two jackets soaked in ice water. My teeth, eyes and nails feel like they might fall into my food and I won't have the energy to even care for self-cannibalism. The church has fallen on our heads and my life is frothing at the mouth. The madness is finally settling in, violently setting up camp in my soul. My veins pulse rhythmically like the drums in a System of a Down song.

Father why have you forsaken me?

In your eyes forsaken me.

In your thoughts forsaken me.

In
your
heart
forsaken
me.
streaming
Micah Alex Oct 2016
Some years later, they will look back to this time and ask how we did not see it,
What we cursed, ridiculed and cut away would become our only saving grace.

The effects would manifest only as humanity started getting wearier of the destruction it had wrought on itself,
Tired of nuclear winters and oxygen-less atmospheres, water-stressed economies on the brink of downfall

And in those days, stories would come from different and remote parts of the world
Of people made of miracles, walking around in daylight, unclothed in hazmat suits and around whom the world seemed more friendly

And the scientists will run to these 'saviours', desperate for hope, desperate to save their once dominant race,
And then they would study them , hair to toe, and they would find their worst fears come to pass

Years ago, Humanity was crazed by a trend to cut away seemingly useless parts of themselves,
These 'useless' parts would now offer a new lease of life to an historically arrogant species

And they will then  build shrines and temples to the Appendix,
The vestigial ***** that pulled humanity from the brink of extinction.

And the people who shunned appendectomy as a sin will reign supreme,
Rulers of a kinder world.
weird dreams
Micah Alex Sep 2016
I must tell stories again,
Of people I haven't met,
Of hearts I haven't felt.
I must let my soul out,
To wander into another pair of eyes,
Into veins that throb to another heart.
Weary I am of my one narrative,
I must tell stories again.
I must know what it means
To be more than me.
Micah Alex Aug 2016
Two pairs of eyes, one yours and  one mine,
Unfocused, we stare beyond the ceiling.
The room is awake with white noise,
Only we are dead to all it's appealing.
I am barely aware of your hand in mine,
Like I am aware of the clock and the still running shower,
It is a spot on the horizon, this room is far far away,
And the silence grows outward like a deadly flower.
And my lover floats with me on this numb sea,
Ebb and flow we go, from one memory to another.

You may leave us now dear reader, for our agony is still too fresh too feel,
Come see us when the dam breaks and pain demands an appointment.
Come back then dear reader and witness the downfall of your muses.
For now we must lie here hand in hand, unthinking, unspeaking and be a mere poetic disappointment..
Micah Alex Aug 2016
The silence is pristine in a shower.
Freely mulling in a cocoon of hot water,
You are safe, in the womb of the moment.
Nourished by this aquatic placenta.
Your mind is set free of the burden of noise,
To meditate and reflect on its own voice.
And grow thee to enlightenment slowly, steadily.


I leave with this advice, bathe thee readily,
For that is the key to life.
Naked Nirvana? Rediscovering the joys of bathing xD
Micah Alex Aug 2016
I have your heart in a vise and I'm tightening the screws
Watch me wring you for every bit of joy you thought you had
You are on my worktable and after I dry you to the bone, I'll go to work on you
I will whisper sweet nothings into your ear as I pull out your fingernails, one by one
Say my name, you will beg for me, I will give you nothing but agony, but you will still thirst.
The title is a pun on whom this is about
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