AN EPISTLE TO THE BURNING MAVERICK EMO....


The burning heart in the deeply dark night lonely burning
watches only the darkest vision of its being slowly turning,

turning into a silent scraping at the shut doors of life returning
all claims of blood and soul to the lonely heart lonely burning.

You are that other one who comes ever silent.

You have spoken of some singular sense,
speaking also of sense shutters
shuttering all songs seeking safe sibilation
but all the more strangely silent, waiting

waiting, as more others would say,
for a wan, very-other-like, wasted way
of the weakened world always dying
to open up, shore up its death-songs,
in death or in life burning,
burning and turning,
and returning.

To you, our loved eye, our hated heart, naked heart, lonely soul
only soul burning, to you I remit this epistle -

This is my ever-strengthening vision
of most ends burning.