The Ultimatum.

[rewiiired]

Staring deep into
your cold, dark and dead eyes here,
through fear and confusion
I try to ascertain
the lines between fiction and truth,
specifically in regards
to where each of us belong.

And to where it belongs.

To where we all stand in this;
to how there could be such a close relation,
a bridge for soul made by mixing skins,
by spiral staircases coalescing.

You hold it out to me,
you demand and plead with me
to give it the contact I know it needs.

No, not till you answer me.

Seeing isn't always believing,
believing isn't always seeing:
sometimes neither seem to correlate,
much less cause one another.

So bridge this gap
and bring me up to speed.

I can't live by faith despite.
I can't live in denial despite.
I linger in doubt till I
can grasp a hold of at least some
feeble form of understanding,

and for so long here I've
teeter-tottered in the cold antigravity,
impossible attestments and forbidden memories,
looming there in your deathly
and numinous, liquid eyes,
trying to connect the dots till I'm wound
in a web of complexities as the spider of fear,
hungry for my essence,
closes in on me.

I consider your apparently
grim attestment: perhaps it's hope
that's floating here after all,
but the question `for whom' plagues my mind
every time I'm forced to
consider it all again.

The mixture here in your
green and blue nutrient liquor;
it's the best of both, you say:
but what of the soul inside?

So I refuse to cradle this.
No, I won't nurture this.
I can't play with this.

I don't know where to place you.
I don't know where to place me.
Certainly don't know where to place this.
And I can't escape this.

Still you hold it out to me,
you demand and plead with me
to give it the contact I know it needs.

But no.

Not till you explain how this could be,
where, for what and for whom you're aiming,
and just what the hell it all means.

Not till you bring me up to speed.

 

[RareForm]

amazing.

 

[(Wordy)]

Your pieces usually carry a distinctive voice, and this is no exception - a powerful, convincing ultimatum.

I found the imagery in this stanza really intriguing:

To where we all stand in this;
to how there could be such a close relation,
a bridge for soul made by mixing skins,
by spiral staircases coalescing.

 

[rewiiired]

Thank you. And the stanza quoted was, I think, my most sucessful attempt so far to explain a relationship I have in my life that is particularly difficult to illustrate, to say the least... at least without the vulnerability of stating the apparent circumstance plainly. I'm quite glad it was read and appreciated.