Love is the terrorist's weapon

The goal of a terrorist is not to enact change - no, terrorism is a reaction to being at a loss for creating change. The terrorist's destruction is an emotional assault. While terrorists are readily condemned with good reason, one cannot ignore the fortitude of those willing to risk everything to prove a point.

My everyday life leaves me to finally understand the terrorist. I find myself falling in love with everything. Every person I come to know, every tree covered in snow, every footstep under enormous skies, and every breath of clean air stabs my heart into a hundred directions. I want no moment to end, and yet I'm constantly looking to the next. I am a young man, and I will die in my old age as a young man at this pace.

These are my weaknesses... I want to hold onto everything. I don't want to let go of anything. I understand the impossibility of all of my feelings, and yet I continue to create new connections, and strengthen existing ones. Love and sadness are practically the same thing because sadness does not exist in the absense of love.

And this explains the terrorist, because I am helpless before him. The terrorist is in an enviable position of rebellion against all sensibility that I find myself completely unable to relate to. All I ask, is to please - spare me, for as long as possible.

affluent love

I saw time travelling in two directions
her wind slipping into knots as she stumbled
relocated escalons of hope transposed into
tiny snowflakes sticking to parked cars
the irrevocable slits of wrists and, of course
a fresh cut bed of roses and a vaulted ceiling

why does love feel different when affluence
eclipses the magic of mesmorized membranes?

no one that has everything can feel anything

so when her hand-crafted image singes your mind
and the cold air suddenly feels electric
your dilated eyes turn crystal then blur
moving memories never end with any clarity
you're only left with the faintest impression
that you've seen this before on television

but somehow that image - grainy and distorted
suffices

like a prismatic ghost scinted into unseen corners
dives into the depths of consciousness
then swells in a nuclear blast which implodes
into a stark shadow etched in blackened dust

affluent love, I've seen you before
you are in every man's memory
collapsed into a dead formula

swimming below water, affluent love
beau monde stick figures fall
leaving the impoverished with everything