the six:6 apostles

assembled disciples and rebuked views
drew intricate parallels in our course of trails
and formerly known
selves

the rhetoric of
you and me
can be only best described and illustrated by beating
heartache
a six year hungry
strike
that our bodies eventually broke from...

these easy discomforts and sullen eyes
left
me dehumanized,
and while i remained alive, i remain what i am,
an implicated prisoner in your past-dated cell so often referred to as
your heart

now i sit, concentrating on the concept of your
intentions,
you so graciously function as an instrument of
persuasion,
pushing and pulling as you play on my cello stained soul,
until my strings eventually break in the
map of your eyes,
which effortlessly and repeatedly
disintegrates
these walls you helped me build,
and slowly
crumbles
my newly constructed cities...

conclusions draw to such
analyses
that would prove
insufficient
in the help of closing these old torn pages of you and i

i studied them for
six,
forgot what i read for
one,
and re-opened them until
april
clearly, in the absence of my qualifications,
the epithet "us" does not fit in this de novo story...
and now it's ashes lay
charred
on the bottom of my once cleansed fireplace

i tried
we tried
you tried
...
but for some reason 2184 days holds no charm
like the third time
so now we resort to the past memories that lessen this inadequacy of what once never really
but
really was

while i peel my brain from your tightly gripped memories,
my infected heart still beats red from
sores now closed

this savage god we more than once named
love
is now nothing but my debilitating
facilitator

you
me
never
us

you no longer place
"our"
past sculpted obstacles in the way of my
ambitions and projections
to new minds and
partially opened hearts

and while you condemned me to death,
i chose when and how to
die

...
now we need feel no
compunction
in describing our end

so bury me,
like i now bury you

...
and let our frequently dug-up
graves
rest for good