I. Eyes for Diamonds

You never knew what to make of it,

that endless burrow in the corner with layered strata rings.

It could lead anywhere or nowhere or both.

You tried to cheat which bore impossibly to thy kingdom come,

but showed no sign of doing so outside this house.

Tengo que salir, pero no se la hora de día

Tengo temor, por lo debo

Necesito vivir en las noches

They came to find you after half a year finding yourself

Turns out you were a cadaver—room 315, third floor

Hakikomori

Hakikomori

The television will remember you today,

maybe not.

At least we found you

Hakikomori

Hakikomori

The family play harmonious tunes,

amid guilty relief

"Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Kennedy!

"Pork shouldn't be microwaved!"

"I'll eat my pork how I want," with Boston-burrowed twang.

"I'll chew that rubber shit all day, I will.

"Castro took my skewers and stokes and punted them down the river bank!"

He went hungry so you could, too,

among his brothers who ate it with tools

O so quick were You to introduce Yourself

A man of wealth and taste.

II. Jasco—Who's at the Door?

Red twine rooted bamboo

Zimbabwe steppe and one who dare steep

Against tribe, she tended spears

"I heard of white folk

"They let their wives think."

Fires would scald the crops,

safe to stay 'neath roots, bloody roots.

"Why would I agree with you, so pale and self-prosperous?"

Fingers cramped

An Elder One's scorn

Fathom's deep a Valusia tar sea soaks

"Why, why do you never stay? Please stay. Stay."

Does she always spay her pets when they bark too loudly,

too softly,

or not when expected to?

Bitch—she'll die alone.

Her Gods have abandoned her with scripture

Much to my delight

But I will be here waiting, for I will glimmer

And glimmer

And glimmer

Prismatic oil.

III. Love Conquers All?

It's scary not deriving any joy

From the thing you used to love

Is love something you can turn off?

Is it something a phantom can inhibit?

Make its chemistry inert?

Could a mother be next to feel a malignant nothing?

Certainly, is it not then a tool for regicide, homicide,

any side to wage war across her sister wing?

Three daggers plunged to end the Mad.

Were they not in love too with their brother,

with holy, debauchee Rome?

But their love handed this man, Caligula his own pact and pen to be that holiness.

Is love our ally,

or does it seek to bed us,

dethrone us, and become us?

Were it true that love would conquer us all,

will we be prepared to face ourselves tomorrow?