The process of my transfiguration in the name of my desire

The process of the transfiguration from a wallflower
into a burning bush in the center of a carpeted room
is a difficult change to make.

And that twitchy little bug in my side
won't let me shake
the anxiety that's squeezing
up through my wheezing
lungs and into my mouth
like bitter candy
with adrenaline mixed
as my fear of the unknown is fixed
so that i cannot change it.

So here's the catch-
        just like you asked
        for a purse
        and amber eyes to match
        (thank you for that inspiration)-
HE. sEtH:
Only a list could describe
and it goes like this:
My lungs
my breath
(and heart and blood)
with hands
the breadth
(of my little neck)
to hold me.
My words and thoughts
inextricably connected
not in a weave but knots
of predestination
(that's fate)
The rulers of a fated nation
are we.
HE
ME
US
My Soul match
sheet mate
head heart tooth ache
and every tiny crack
that i posses
is caressed
that is HE

And he (heave a sigh at that)
is an eyecatch
a soul of light
a music making
hand shaking
Seth D Charis Matic (model 052686)
that calls for all
and answers to none
(save me, ah what a gift!)
and stands in the middle like a living statue
MADE OF STONE

And what a dismal ache it is
in my ribs
when he is breaking promises
and drinking
all that stone
and all I can think
with this love ache i have
is how I can corrupt myself
and slowly die with him
in a circle of friends
And i don't care that he
won't remember tommorow
but I cannot stick to the wall


So my lovely corruption (and redemption)
Take my vines and tear them off the wall
And bind our wrists together with them all
Stand my bloom in the floor
put your red cigarette to my chest
Blaze me up and set me in
a room with all the rest.