at the collapse, for a heart, this synapse

apocalypse, present, upon us
virus spreading,
deepening the "dead-in-head thing"
amongst the never were,
really very much alive
but now they're shitting
what little was left of them
decimated toilet paper aisles,
a symbolic reflection of their insides

heroic health care workers
fighting the only fight
that matters right now
all those god damned "super hero"
movies, guess what, that shit
it can't save us now

and what exactly is the only thing
aside from the goddess kitten,
that I care of, or am thinking. stupid thoughts, sideways of smitten?

I'm thinking about
the one thing, person
I am now, within, without

some astounding guy
who rapturous rebellion
makes me question everything
I thought a gave two fucks about

they say love finds you
when you least expect it
nothing could have told me
when I got in his car
the whispers were there,
although quite soon, I detected

something in
his silently unfathomable eyes
sadness, depth, light and hope
glowing frame
brought together, we
on some path, we found,
nothing but a mouse chase game
both seeking escape,
we found more of the same

or
when the right hand doesn't know
who the left hand, is trying to kill
"now go here, and now go there"
nothing was real,
except this man, made of feel

his face, the kind, that art had made
different angles, different facets
profile, film star, golden age
front view, fascinate
corner angle, broken babe
seeping with empathic, introspective
delicate rage

a rattler, railer
against society
it's demand to force a "credit card cage"
work and work and do it some more
all to climb imaginary ladders,
no afford

ability
"it's killing me",
he, or, I, or we,
who said it
entwined in the experience
destined to be a
"too bizarre to ever quite forget it"

remembrance
filled with disgust and the slow drip, divine
the majority, divine, came from him,
those electric, patriotic, "pop" proud eyes

filled with so much more
than he'd ever let on
part "red cross heart",
part well skilled con

artist
in the art
of playing the part
but only to the point
once his x ray eyes
had sized up every person and exit sign
in the joint

so many facets and furies,
deep inside
i slowly realized there was no "run", me, or hide

I could never be bored
he, the impossible to be, or allow
state, "ignored"

as on and on and on
he'd bestow
upon me
all that he felt, thought, knows

this, my friends,
is how love grows
something I'm not sure even
his wise/blind knows

wise in too many ways, to count
yet blind, to the affect,
his magnetic "man mount"

as in, 1+1, minus two, leaves zero
self destructive,
his ability to calculate, castigate
inner hero's

of heart,
for sacrifice,
on the alter, "mathematical"
contradicting all, inherent,
his "magical"

it must be perfect
as his perceptions, plans, laid out
or it's nothing at all
once the seeds bloom, sprout doubt

and so we drove,
til we ended up confined,
ultimately trapped together,
in the final act, both losing our minds

locked behind doors
as a plague began to spread,
musing on life, the wonder of death
strained by whores, "boss bitches",
ate "stupid" for breakfast,
and pussy and ass, all we could smell,
in the air, on their breath

but
amongst all the shit
and the strain of the stain
I found in him, love
more of care, give, less pain

more of me, sighs, "please don't ever leave"
not of "need", but the "feel right" receive
as in, my god, I just can't get enough,
be around him,
look and listen and dream and desire
as if I could finally see, a real stairwell,
"climb higher"

but then, I'm struck
this all, may be, just in me
I can't help the fact
my external shell
betrays the truth,
what it means, "what it seems"

but then it doesn't,
then again, it does

powerless to change it,
he will see and do, what he wants

a fire of simmer and sensual
and sweet
somehow, enveloped by him,
I feel strangely alive, real, complete

but two halves
must know, when the others'
found "home"
or else its, fuck you, and fuck me
self defined "trainwrecks" 
are well known, crush the "we"

as in collide and kill,
anything remotely too unplanned,
or, of the inner fears, "too close", real

irony everywhere,
fate, meet your mirror
from a man who loves external chaos
the tragedy of this,
couldn't be any clearer

could it turn to triumph?
maybe so, maybe not

but
"it's easier to ask for forgiveness,
than permission"

so then, he'll have to forgive me,
it wasn't me, he was searching
but it is me,

yes.
this "love him".

immeasurably.
unexpectedly.
of the "can't explain, can't escape, can't erase,"
vain, variety

not a garden I've ever seen grow
quite like this
but he already knows
because, this man, has the eyes
of a surgical physician

able to pinpoint and prod
with exquisite smile, and precision

paradoxically filled
with ever questioning indecision
until inner swells of anxious,
impatience, cause derision

then he bolts, in fits and jolts
of energy, energized
world, watch out

there is more to this man
than most could ever see,
his "about"

and so I came, beheld and fell,
slowly, unknowingly, under his spell

call me friend, or brother or cell mate,
the same
but for this unfathomable emotion,
like a lover, would die
I will not be ashamed,
there is no bleed, here, no blame

for all the secrets and answers,
reasons why, look

his eyes.

(ever changing, mercurial, soaked in soul, saw, first sight,
before any words ever needed to be spoken, light bright )

bowen hart roselli
27 march 2020
ringwald love