THE BEAUTIFUL ONES FADE

It is the last
warm day of autumn
as they stroll down
the back alley of hard life
They are young, beautiful gods, full of light and combustible energy,
draped in a shroud of decadence,
wandering a 20th century dreamscape.

The girl with hair like the wind
moans a shudder
as the doe-eyed boy
licks a shard of glass
and slices open his tongue.
Tasting the salty blood in his mouth
he thinks, This must be the taste
of drowning in the ocean.
To her it was the smell of
death in the slaughter-house.

The girl walks away,
leaving him
sitting on the warm bricks,
the blood flowing down his chin,
staining his virgin white shirt
the colour of rotted berries.

July 22, 1993

(NOTE: This was one of my first surreal/abstract pieces(which seemed to peak with the Wearing And Tearing Of The Silences a few years later), anyway, this piece wrote itself and I am still trying to decipher it in my subconscious, though I've had many others interpretations(which is good-I like a poem that can be like a painting-where everyone sees/ feels what they want in it.I eded up writing a sequel piece a few years later(LA TRISTESSE DURERA and awhile after that figured I'd make a trilogy out of it and added the 'epilogue' or end piece(J'Entend Ton Coeur).The trilogy is unofficially titled THE BEAUTIFUL ONES(A Surrealistic Love Story).But this was my first good surreal poem, has been published over 25 times at least and is still a favorite of mine).