The Autumn hour has come, And I can barely speak. Heart-flutters echo in my ribcage, Vibrating along my skeletal frame Down to the wells of my gut. Cool, clammy skin wraps my body together, Tied and bound in a double knot at my throat, Tangled and backwards. I never thought I’d hear those words, Roll over my tongue…
Your face never looked older: Scores of lines track softly from your smile To the pained corners of your eyes. Beneath your unkempt fringe - it used to flutter on windy days _____And tangle between us when we kissed - I can read lines as a map Tracing each river of pain I’ve trickled over your eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty year old face. Some things we can never undo. Some cuts can never be salved. We’ll never forget how wrong we were.
Each day outside my window I see that brick wall. I know every crumbling slab by heart. Each dirtied, spectral imprint upon it, Each cratered crevice, And lingering, paranoid hole. Before sleep has even left my eyes, As the world comes into vision With smeared, foggy clarity, That brick wall stares me back, Pins me down, Its looming shadow weighing on my shoulders In a full-screen eclipse, Forming a smirking metaphor for my life.
A jungle of sterilized, lipstick seductions - Smooth, plastered, eyelash fantasies - Relentlessly caressing With an airless wink and slip of the tongue. It infests city streets, Claws its painted nails along my ear canals, Jumps up and down for my attention, And whore’s out red-lipped fantasy - That had better be your wallet _____Bulging from your front pocket.