These patterns of anti-ecstacy and
ariel winter kisses are a kaleidoscope
of swarming black. Death’s deciduous
tongues wrapping cruel worn whisper’s
inside my ears. The screaming fungus
of the love you have for her is a
murder of crows dashing and diving
between the waiting sheets
contained inside my heart.
The teary mucus moments
that I swallow creep into my mind,
diseasing my baby soul, ripping away
all foundations of my entire whole.
And, I know that I deserve this–
this brilliant revenge,
since I couldn’t hold myself up
when I wanted to leap off the bridge
and that admission turned you away.
And in that vunerability, my lips landed
on another man’s glance. But, still–
could you ever see my wealth of love,
or my desperation that was sitting on
the precipice of tangled ill thoughts?
Intimacy, where is it?
Honesty, is it possible?
Where are you?
What about me?
So here I am, again,
making our bed.