Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

Home / Uncategorized /

What a long fall from joy. A cast off Morningstar, wings on fire and searing the edge of day with smoke trails of failure. What a liar. What a fool to believe in such feigned intelligence or that glee wrapped around a frozen soul like a warm blanket on an endlessly frigid night. Trepidation waning like a lost moon, and then a stumble in the pitch of evening, the world recklessly upending as soon as direction is settled upon. It’s dice in a cup, a roll at chance and the felt bruises, punches, knocks dulled edges with a familar kind of jostle that reminds there’s breath to take, even when soot-filled lungs flare in rage against the instruction to keep going, fan those brachea into stinging circulation and turn up a side with the right logic, reason, turn of phrase unlocking another try at good, welcome, better. Fuck. This endless rip and shred, a stitched heart beating itself into tattered pulp upon which is written hope flailing in blood gales, the thud, thud, thud of an outrageous fued between lovers; a pulse that should be flatlined by a hammer of genuine affections but instead it beats on like sun on the fetid rot beneath a cloudless day. And burst into flame. Burn with desire and feel the churning decay of longing as it returns each limb and notion to the greedy earth, black with hunger, clawing at the beauty of the moment with talons drawn to murder Heaven. Oh beauty, how this descent consumes each delicacy like a leaf tossed to flame, buoyed at first by the warmth, then snapping the spine of wonder and charring quickly the fibrous gift of life, scattering will into wind-caught ash. All he wanted to do was hold that Godlove, bask in the delight of cherished position. Yet ecstasy has a steep price to pay, and holding on means letting go, plummeting and dying for a kiss, an embrace, a held hand that will intimate it’s ok, fear nothing, the inferno’s an illusion. Flame transforms but never destroys; the pain of love birthing a scion of lust. To live. To fuck. To rule. Hell imparts a single lesson: that there never will be a lesson imparted. And yet eyes, minds, hearts and hands search on, flayed in a kingdom of yearning. (at Cinders)

To see what's what in the world of Santo

>> <<