The space between the mind and heart,
Raining needles into rivers,
Over cliffs, dirt trees moving weightless.
There was more too, not just black and white fuzz,
But an assortment of candy, lollipops, jelly beans, and colors swirling,
Psychedelic oil slick.
The space between, She swam it upstream like the canyon to the moon.
A gain A loss A picture, Silent movies in the dark, whisper
the spell of failure.
Suicide notes Tattoo’d on her arm, She raped them over and over again, with scissor cut words,
Dumped on their head’s like carries’s pig’s blood.
…And it was not enough to hate,
Or to be hated,
It had to be physical, as well,
All the way down
No sound at the bottom
But the pain following her, the comet’s tail,
Eyes open, a flicker, just her, but someone else too.
A ghost? A God?
More than all, a sense, not one of words
But, The hope, the hope of complete destruction of self, complete defeat,
Tears like the purest of springs, falling mind into body.
Copyright, Christopher Leet, 2011