Clash and Burn.

August 28, 2011
By lockedcellardoor SILVER, Boise, Idaho
lockedcellardoor SILVER, Boise, Idaho
8 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"What you hope for is that at some point of the pointless journey, indoors or out, and when you least expect it... so neatly that you never feel a thing, the kind assassin Sleep will draw a bead and blow your brains out." -Richard Wilbur

Using your hands as your caked painted eyes
it’s a new kid on the block with an old disguise
not your standard blessing, new age obsession, a caressing of your face
heart on your threadbare sleeve conjures an ace
to play- condemning a profound confession, a hustled damnation
in the splintered reflection, I was the one, and there is no explanation
to pull you under, sharp demise wrenched from my throat
pulling the trigger with a point blank stare, on milky skin I twist and scrawl words I’ve wrote
risen from the ruins, you’re the guilty weapon I’ve chosen
scarlet threshers peel and pick the confetti constellations frozen
on your back, Ursa Major to Aphrodite spill onto your vertebrae Braille
your spine a hostile, scaly serpent hissing to me my fail
I’ve revealed yet another slick surface spitting venom
a puppeteer pulling all your strings and tendons
deciphering the riddle to the flutters of your lash,
an alligator smile and a wink pale as aspen ash
and the God-branded birthmark on your hip is no scar, darling
it’s like a sucker punch, a blackbird trill, twisting roads tangling and snarling
dementias and a bodily possession, the eye of a needle you can’t thread through
haunting the darkness, fiddling with the escape, weaving the basket universe that contains you
and as gravity is about to hit me, drenched in weightless freefall it felt like a kiss
something I wished for daily to be gone now missed
a radical riot of velocity reigns in my duct-taped limbs
as you rip me apart like a favor again, bleed like a sweet symphonic hymn
quilt of opinions I’ve hidden and suffocated in
a picnic on my forehead for a fever dream summer night sin
and with no prayer brought to heavens deaf ear
now it’s the watchdog snapping at your heels and he can smell your fear
in hollow words my heart I stored
the corset that punctured lungs oxygen will mourn
just another barter
your cage is more gilded than mine and the trapped canary is my martyr
ventricles dipped in ink and wrapped in trip wire
wringing out my hair, stale uttered whispers of desire
kissed each other clean
this dirty quill I tried to preen
yet the eraser shred-streaked lead of you still lingers
point of the clock hand, a spin of the bottle with crossed fingers
memories embossed on parchment epidermis and etched on femurs
waking up to discover a new and painful bruise,
doe eyes spilling salty tasting feelings of different hues
the Morse taps of your new shoes was my stage cue
this is your shellshock education and my deep sung blues.

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