I looked up
and saw
neon plastic staring
back at me
pale and stuck suspended
like an irrevocable beacon
thick with misery
from the discernible darkness
that coloured the specters
of metal and paint
in the spirit of
transparent ink, sinister
dissolving
bisexual
tough
and perfumed in cool tints
bringing slow tears
to my eyes
caught by now, in the snare
of dog-eared yells
and wretched name-calling
floating smoothly like film sheets
peculiar and scar-tissued
As i draped a hand over my belly,
snaking it over my chest
under my clothes,
comforting my boring heartbeat
with the warmth of warm blood-under-skin
I dreamed of lying under the
flower glow of an endless celestial
sky, blundering its way across
it's own chameleon's coat
I draped the other hand
over my eyes
trying to leave blank spaces for light
to swill in the darkness of my crossbred nightmare
to arabesque and pivot like
heartbroken leaves
that travel the length
and breadth of my
breath
measured in their unintended movement
and emulsified by the jars
of ardent Eden that i
lovingly bleed
almost smiling
into the cobbled roads
as i walk half-dead
I wondered about the touch of
my hands
to my lips
and then to my soul
and then
lower
lower
lower
I went blind.
1 comment:
Hello.
Thank you for your comment on the aghora blog. Thought you might like this article.
http://www.firstthings.com/article/2012/01/the-cursed-poets-and-their-gods
Warm regards,
Ryan
Post a Comment