It was in the dregs,
like literal coffee grounds
where the future could be red
and read
as follows;
Two sides
are always connected
somewhere in between
heads and tails,
his and hers,
love and hate
and living and dying
is your Prophecy.
When picking sides
it is safe to presume
that both are sharp enough
to draw blood
and switchblades
thrust open
hearts of flesh and palms
close into fist balls
tossed at those within arms reach.
A residue that stains,
the names of things,
the unswallowable future,
the absence of anything
consumable, the thirst
for pain is a craving
for love and hate.
Desire
of our own destruction
is still desire,
making it
Big
never makes anything smaller.
Having it all
is the same as not imagining
more.
It all becomes the same
sharp point,
*"this is how you switch the blade,
you always hurt the ones you love,"
perhaps passion points us
toward the pain
of never knowing
when we are finished.
*Lyric written by Amy Winehouse
Painting by Jan Davidsz. de Heem (1606-1683), 'Still life with fruit and wine' c. 1642 in Public domain.
