Cogitus Rex

My head is confused, my emotions are subtle and nearly flat. I don’t really know how to go, so I go as I always have...with perseverance and faith, inconstancy and doubt. I write that and ponder how one death, albeit the most important death other than my own, can make of an entire world an alien universe? I have survived nearly 18 months of grueling grief. Had I been asked to choose between this and running a weekly barefooted marathon on broken glass, I would have chosen the latter. But there was no choice, Death is an asshole that way, just shits on you and walks away. But thank you, really, Death. You exposed yourself for the fraud you are. You dare to take their carrion flesh, corpses are your trophies. I shit back at you. Stinking Death. Nothing you do takes the Love. NOTHING. That is exactly what you think you leave us with. Nothing. But you are so jaded, having killed so many and most without even a thought for how loved they

Not by my word... Really, she posits deposits? And what makes shame your diet? How did such a voluptuous form get lost in deadly thoughts? Denial of the flesh is mortification of the soul. There is no future without the tenderness that makes of a man and a woman>>>>>>>>> a couple. (Not by my word, but written in chronicles of Time) Oh no. Give me the airy heights where Love toils not in sweat. Oh no, give me the places where gods are jealous of men so they covet what they cannot have, let us blight a romance with dry and dusty ideals. Really, give me the clouds that are cold and logical, like vapor that turns to ice. (Not by my word, but hewn in rock.) The course of a river is not a woman’s to change, even if water is her problem. (Not by my word, but burned in diamond light) The sun should set in the East and Earth spin in reverse.