words

turning and turning
the dark centrifuge of this heart
separating fire from water,
brimming the surface with love
like suicides, martyrs, prophets
of self destruction.

this morning slips
through stained fingers
and it is cold beyond the dead,
a pale reminder of what lurks
just beyond the threshold
with open arms and killer eyes,
lifting being from each and every
this thing of absolutes.

burning with the sun
as it slips through
the thinning liquid dawn,
scrutinizing the consistency
of such fluid banality
in the strange moments
we are forced to share,
crossing barrier and bond
to meet that molten horizon
in its unyielding sweep and stare,
melting as i move closer
to the terrible center of everything.

-S.C. Martinez