In the sickroom; This dread abode…
Hateful season, how you mock me
Sooty angels pry into my dreams with caustic, razor fingers
Of which they use to riven the last tatters of hope
Place their decayed eyes in my direction, as gauzy lips of melancholia, stone cold
Are pressed against my forehead
While they trim their hemlock wings, leathery feathers piling up like the brittle stars
That you’ve left inside a thousand green bottles on top of the brick wall in the back yard –
Graves in rows
Taking up too much space in my heart –
Rows so long that they blur into shapes of useless mouths, sinful lips; Like yours
Spitting words of which you’ve casually dissected all meaning –
Sliced away its resplendent, precious luster
Little by little as the toilsome years bit deep
When a mothers wounds were handed down as bitter candy
Love embalmed with cyanide fractures; Eggshell fault lines from preexisting umbilical instability
Goading life to swipe away at your spirit during such thankless decades of drought
A heritage of malnutrition and insanity
Until you found your god in a bottle
Disassembled and parched; You drank him in
Razed the roof until you rattled the dead –
Annoyed; They screeched against the cinnamon sun that rose through your pores, from your booze-soaked veins
Oozed from your clammy skin…
Bloated pupils drift aimlessly; Jellyfish sans tentacles –
Ricochet in slow motion off of violent irises
Like blobs in lava lamps camped out on top of a seventies television set
As you slump back on the couch, stare at its blank screen
Like it’s a wormhole to Persephones sanctum
A haven where the bones sing you lullabies that empty your head of its torturous pain –
Your affliction, boring through blood and bone in frenetic mastication…
Drop by drop, liquid sex sliding down your throat, until moony delirium
Did you find a gods perspective from your hazy alcove?
This wasting away…
Until you have no care, no concern for precious things
Stepping over the cusp, raging demon; You have left your eyes behind
You have cut your face into my greatest fear
Torn your lips into a snarling ferocity that spits our memories into ashes of tears
My heart, my spirit disintegrates into suicide wounds
The air swirls as Mercy descends, leathered wings curling round her…
There is no place for me in her sooty embrace
I’m not even a shadow in our photographs
I hear you humming in the other room, as if you’re at peace with our final goodbye
I hear you set the bottle down
I used to think that your indifference to my feelings was your wounded child lashing out

Feed me gasoline
Then set me on fire
My pain, my flames, our demise –
The only light in your dead eyes

Glass of water at your lips