The ice has settled, Lightly stepped across the land with barely a creak _____of it’s stealthy, night-bourne feet. And now it waits. Eyes aglance To slowly chill its prey, Dead in their tracks.
My fingers are cold, Blue-hued, Encased in a crystal grip. My bones creak in muffled screams, Silenced by ice, No love nor lustful inspiration Can thaw them from their slumber. My heart slows. My pen rests.
I honestly can’t remember a time before you. I can’t remember any thoughts. At an eager, trembling ten years old, When I fell from the banks of the Red River, Plunged into murky and icy waters, Before my Mother’s surgical hands freed me, I could swear my last thought was your face, Freckled, smooth and smiling. – How could it not be? Maybe that’s why I was struck When I first met you years later. Or maybe sometime since I castrated my memory bank, For eternal sunshine. Without you now I tremble, Impotently.
Warmth emanates drunkenly, Spills and seeps through the glass; Deep orange light Hitting the 2AM’s torrential rain And disapparating like smoke into the thunderous Pollution-hued haze above. Our bubble, Sunken midst the city sea-bed, Touches no-one: Bottles clink, To our expressive revelry, To our deep, fearful euphoria, And is lost… Muted by the cloak Of rain smacking pavements.
I stare into a dark, cavernous pit, Smoothly rounded into its flat base, But endless. Infinite. Moist brown sides stretch downwards, _____Down, __________Down to where a small puddle quivers, Barely skimming the oaken surface, As if the barrel itself were a sunken hulk Breasting itself above an ocean’s surface. My fingers claw through, Scratching the planks, Disturbing the perfect, sleepy peace inside, Seismically rippling the shallows – Loosening alcoholic particles Into waves of spirits, Swimming, Floating, Weaving a toxic headache into my nostrils. With desperation I scratch – Fingers icy, Skeletal, Blood-splintered rakes _____– And no-words come out