Some days I am
so haunted
the ghosts delight
in calling my name,
early mornings,
while you slept and
dreamt of bouncing tits
and novocaine.

But I’d rather paint your body
all over the moaning walls
of each forget-me-not room
in my house
by candlelight magic,
drape you over subtle soft
armchairs and kiss skin,
cozy up to you
against lampposts
and fuck you hard then
on sunflower painted
kitchen tables.

I just desire so much more
than this plane
could seem to satisfy,
for I had seen things,
horrible nightmares
played out in the day.
Cancer demons
ever so slowly
pulling and eating away
at the life of my blood
and soul bonded brother.

Thus now feel myself
seeking out pleasure
like a fucking madness,
a mania takes control,
the pulse within me
to try to somehow restore
light balance to
such a dark decade,
losing my dad,
then my brother,
the world has tilted strange
and unforgiving like the sea,
cant understand any of it really,
walking blind
through a wet fog
in the marshes of Louisiana,
or driving through
a blizzard to be home
for Christmas,
hard snow splats on windshields
at 4 in the morning,
slip sliding
to the baseline
thumping in my car,
sobbing like a banshee
when the moons waning.

I start sensing
death breathing on
the back of my neck,
curling up in my stomach
and taking home there,
I panic and create
impulse heavy urges and mayhem
to distract
from the tornado
in my head.
Could you hear me
through all this noise?

Deep down I just craved the light.

No comments:

Post a Comment