Gleefully accepting the meaninglessness of life is the only way forward.
I look a bit weird in real life because my wings are invisible. Seems like I'm missing something.
I came on a hot wind
from somewhere impossibly high
smelling of mercury,
angel feathers, creosote and fleece.
I'm hot, but unlovable,
people have said
like an engine winding down
after a long journey. Circle me
with care, always mindful
of the muffled sting of static.
There's a heart in here too.
Wearing red in a dark crowd.
Silver rain in a black cloud.
I was bitten by the original snake;
eve's own. But watch it crawl for cover
when I put my best foot forward.
Here, take a number, mine.
Use it to test the water
one toe at a time. Earth yourself through me;
I'm as stiff and featurekess as a lightning rod.
Hold out your hand.
It's a whistle I carved from the white bones
of my solitude. Use it to summon a demon
or a god, something sublime. But before we speak
let me end this rhyme.