Memory Fragments: Probity

Smell The Earth I Work With My Hands

Let me smell the fruits of my labor. Smell all their fragrance and bask in their odors
That pungent sweat I reap with my hands; let me smell the wet earth I work so hard for
The tears and blood I shed are for you and you alone. I shall dispense with the freeloaders
Thieves of love with no sense of smell. What smell do they know? That stink of spore

I'm jealous and envious of them. Although you're here with me, naked and embraced
To fight alongside you; eat and drink to one's heart's content. What life that must be!
I can smell the vapors of this waters. Time boils quickly as I turn red-faced
My tears have dried up. I no longer cry, for it is you I love amidst this red-hot sea

From heaven and hell, the earth stands in-between. Neutral, and ready to be worked on
Let my angelic caress work your body, and let my demonic grip hold you tightly
I have forgotten my teachings to you, for I have been lost to the smell of freshly cut lawn
I must apologize. What mind, heart and body I've shown must smell most ghastly

Such is the nature of the senses. One is tranced at first, and later on we are submitted
We lose all manner of composure, not knowing we're living in the truest sense possible
That of absolute overwhelmingness. That of all five senses activated
But I will not relent. I know better. I will master them, and let myself to you be cognoscible

You don't know me yet. Not the true me. Either angel or demon, but never both
Mock me for all I care. Satire me in your mind, as one big freak of nature
I'm not divine nor royalty. I'm the species you have come to loath
What if I love you? Your earth, your world, shall never be worked by this creature

Even if I sow the fields of hope. Even if I wet and cultivate my seeds of arduous work
I shall never smell that lustrous hair. I'll never reap those budding hearts of you
In my attempts of smelling my own dirty hands, your reaction must be of irk
I'm sorry for loving you. I'm sorry for pretending I knew

Split as you and I are, we both love each other whole. Like cards of four of a kind
But what part loves which? I'm confused, scared, sad and angry on the inside
My earth, my world, is nothing more than a shell undefined
And yet I work on it. With my own hands, I work myself first with pride

I work myself to present to you a flower in full bloom. A white and black, thorny rose
I work my fields of study; my crops and trees of knowledge shall produce many a harvest
When I master the art of growing one's mind, body and heart, I shall propose
At the altar of heaven, hell, and earth, you shall wear my finest groom's vest

...Titania, Yester. I...really do love you. I really, really, do. But...please. Do not say a thing
Of what I have talked about. Of what you and I have sang. Or anything here in this bath
I do not care about what the future may bring. I will give you the most beautiful ring
Even if I incur both heaven and hell's wrath, I shall work the earth left in the aftermath