Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Orphaned desire

It is an orphaned desire.

Sickened by the halfmoon dew
on my lip stained verse
half sung,
half awaiting perhaps -
the heal on scrapped knees.

Did you, did you ever see the words lisp?

Your own words -
breathing in my vaporous syntax
frozen in the nights of skinny details.

Indeed they were yours
will remain only yours -
Making love to the cliffs and folds
of the endless sky,
to the steel grey gun of a steely resolve.

Can i ask?
Did you ever feign love, then or now?

Each time those reluctant tears well up
Those sharp tearing fingers scrap the throat
Can i ask then,
Could you possibly feign it enough?

It is a mild smell on my skin -
Lazy and reluctant whispers of fragrances.

Cut deeper, much much deeper
Let the blood cleanse
the muscles
the bones.

Cut deep enough to leave a gap.
A wide yawn in that thesaurus full of desires
A skinny limb to those yellow, fading branches.

Empty the trash cans
the memories
the nothing-something stains, marks.

Erase, erase.
Cut and scrape.

And at last collapse
with a tired thud.

Drugged, intoxicated
Totally totally destroyed.
Totally broken.