Dear Anonymous-

Dear Anonymous-

I wish to underline the novelty
my mind is seeping into....
a paradox ventilating
past on a fresh,
unconsummated night.
The old room before me
tastes ill when I touch
my tongue to the air,
and as I feel the stubs
of toe-turning carpet,
my jaw sets itself an
unreachable cliff.

[You are unaware
of the belongings that speak,
begging me to dance
across loneliness]

Two o'clock in the morning
or is it a haze of evening
with possibly too many lights
to cross, and too much
transportation
to consider repose.

Black velvet floods over me,
yet I have nothing to grasp
but the heater beneath me-
how I despise the way it hisses
at my existence. For I know it
rustles at the very sound
of anticipation- the loud
strike of each echo
from my midline...
that I render unidentified.

[You wove me this monstrosity
to weep in with sore eyes...
when your warmth took life.
Now, the sleeves stretch and groan,
nothing is soft anymore, how it aches,
like the remainder
of memory]

I have one eye of gray
and one eye of shadow.
The former I feed my
cigarettes to,
and my organs undergo atrophy....
while my heart disappears
with the smoke's
hooking groom.

Though my still life is
wailing to be yet complete,
I must be detached
from this head-on misery.
The windows at my thigh
creak and crawl nearer.
They tell me the world
will stalk each rise of my chest,
until I won't be able to run-
from no one's respiration.

[You set your bronze scent
on fire, so I can keep
remembering the locks of you
burnt]

I lick the crater between my thumb
and index fingers,
allowing myself to feel
the heat of a flesh gone maniacal.

I hear chambers within
gasp, but I still loosen my hold
as my wrists pull the bolts away-
twisintg far enough to be unbound.

Outside faces me bravely,
or maybe the other way around?

Here the mortification
manifests itself- I finally
writhe away from the
killers that lay in the cardboard
picture boxes.....
how I've wanted to escape
the temptation to break all your
glass pieces.

And I consider the morbid
scenes on either side of me,
the concert of Tuesday's thirst,
the shaving of winter's beard-
I jump onto cement
down from the castle's walls,
in a hard frenzy
to desert my lover's home.

Then I groan, before once more
I fade, impoverished and unsettled
into the rolls of hallucination.

[You are never to be
a synonym for death,
but a passing dose
that insured my love
obliquity]
-

Written on December 6, 2011.
1:41 AM