Borderline

The night I tried to save her

I learned, the people we love

cannot be saved.

.

I don’t remember too much,

of the evil things we had done.

But the consequences

are birthed, throughout

all these days.

.

A changing

of the lock,

breaking the chain.

.

A golem, construct

coming undone.

.

I felt the death,

I felt it go,

like the Deschutes,

In the spring.

.

Rivulets of dark,

of pain.

.

I felt it go.

.

The illusions, the absence,

the comforts of my life,

A tide, flowing wildly

off the precipice,

of the incarnation.

Out of this creature

.

coming undone.

The eating, the devouring,

the expungement.

.

In the forests

of the La Pine wilderness

dying things,

they don’t stay dead

for long.

.

Still, I felt it all go.

.

I saw my own apotheosynthesis,

I saw it burn.

.

In a pyre, wood enflamed.

Legs first, then body,

up in flames.

.

If I think too hard,

I feel the sacrifice.

.

I feel it go.

.

The night I died,

I opened the door.

I saw her and I

lying there.

.

Like a Dali painting,

the cracking,

the bending,

the hallucinations.

.

Like a mad jester

on the floor.

.

She and I remain there,

sometimes.

.

Still dying,

still death.

Some of me, will never leave.

.

Once complete,

I stood like a silhouette.

Remains painted on a tree.

.

On a high desert hillside,

I saw my mirage,

a rainstorm quenching

the burning flames

of my apocalyptic death.

.

A biblical vision, mirage set,

a stoney backdrop,

a dry barren landscape.

.

A liberation from a story

that no longer belonged to me.

.

I slouched, bleeding,

escaping the derision

of phantoms and ghosts

plaguing nights,

.

envisioning strands, strings,

filling a tapestry

symbolizing what was lost,

.

dancing through dreams,

tying me there.

.

You were a Magdalene to me.

Taking what was left

off the old tree.

you found me.

In your compassion,

mounted at the center.

In the temple

of our sacrilegious therapy,

Seeing unbroken pieces

I filled the shattered core

with parts impervious,

.

projections, amalgamations,

essence of someone,

a mirror.

.

Filling the cracks,

the bleeding.

.

In this consecration

I saw midnight turn,

I saw day begin.

I saw the sun rise,

.

breathed again.

.

Finally, the world bent

a different way,

a strange direction.

.

I feel you,

I feel your essence,

I feel parts of myself,

the small things

surviving the flame.

.

I cannot tell the difference

between the self,

and the apotheosis.

.

I gained something

with the gift,

placed upon the alter,

of this foolishness.

.

I feel cracks in the glass

of the lost-self healed

by this audacious dream.

.

I feel birthed again,

into what I’ve wanted to be.

.

As the beginning closes,

I sleep peacefully.

.

After infinity bleeding,

I wonder maybe I didn’t die,

in that hospital room.

.

Lying on a lone mattress,

cradled by naked walls,

hallways, with no exit.

.

I never left the space

I entered but could not leave.

.

Sometimes, I see

the day I almost died.

The great deconstruction,

untangling of things,

.

the long goodbye.

.

On this morning,

as the sun burns

as the wind shifts the game,

the table is reset.

.

Maybe, this wasn’t the end,

maybe, you didn’t save me.

.

But this must be where

saving begins.