Noise

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.