(no subject)
Jun. 29th, 2020 04:20 pmi don't give a damn about persia
he, too, is alexander;
he said it in love, the purest expression
of which he could think: i am a king, and he is my king
we are one man. we think alike
we dream alike. we make our bodies
into one body in the deep circle
of the well-black encompassing night;
i, too, am he
an appendage to love,
fifty percent of a sentence which,
spoken without its conclusion
or its introduction, is unintelligible;
i make no sense without him...
the direction in which his presence
joins mine
is unknown to cartographers
indefinable to mathematicians
unscribed by the words of men
and the sung laments of the women
he has spurned in favour of my bed;
i, too, myself, am alexander,
it is said;
we make ourselves a greater whole
from halves of incomplete selves;
divided presocratic souls,
an aristophanean fantasy of octopedal unity,
a spirit sundered reunited in a soul... mate.
it is said.
oh, it is said:
he too is alexander.
it is said with love;
and only arrogance would say,
i am alone am too alexander.
it is a crime to paint a crown upon one's own brow.
it is said that to be alexander
is to dream of only two things:
the thighs of hephaistion,
and the conquests of a king of kings.
i, too, am myself.
i am the undivided soul, the undiluted spring,
and it is through no rejoining spirit
that i am made a whole and spectacular thing,
and it is said
(by me)
i alone am alexander
yes, i alone am alexander
and i decide
what that means.
he, too, is alexander;
he said it in love, the purest expression
of which he could think: i am a king, and he is my king
we are one man. we think alike
we dream alike. we make our bodies
into one body in the deep circle
of the well-black encompassing night;
i, too, am he
an appendage to love,
fifty percent of a sentence which,
spoken without its conclusion
or its introduction, is unintelligible;
i make no sense without him...
the direction in which his presence
joins mine
is unknown to cartographers
indefinable to mathematicians
unscribed by the words of men
and the sung laments of the women
he has spurned in favour of my bed;
i, too, myself, am alexander,
it is said;
we make ourselves a greater whole
from halves of incomplete selves;
divided presocratic souls,
an aristophanean fantasy of octopedal unity,
a spirit sundered reunited in a soul... mate.
it is said.
oh, it is said:
he too is alexander.
it is said with love;
and only arrogance would say,
i am alone am too alexander.
it is a crime to paint a crown upon one's own brow.
it is said that to be alexander
is to dream of only two things:
the thighs of hephaistion,
and the conquests of a king of kings.
i, too, am myself.
i am the undivided soul, the undiluted spring,
and it is through no rejoining spirit
that i am made a whole and spectacular thing,
and it is said
(by me)
i alone am alexander
yes, i alone am alexander
and i decide
what that means.
no subject
Date: 2020-06-29 03:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-06-29 03:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-06-29 06:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-06-29 06:56 pm (UTC)