The Sun Chases The Moon

I spend a thousand blinks on old memories.
Each taste like cocaine
broken teeth, pressing
truth against my cheek, a cold shock

like this one – 
crying on the beach, sleeping in empty sea shells.
My mother eats her hands,
choking on emptiness,
on regret –  I understand,
then –

fireflies above my nose.
Bathing with my naked sisters,
collecting our shadows full
of sea water – and with a rush of the moon
a tip of years comes rushing back
and I choke, not on emptiness
but on regret, and I understand
then –

it’s the same sun that passed away,
roasting flames with me on
Sunday; and what does He do?

He moves.

 

Haunted

Midnight visits with feeble jaws,
while my teeth grind on white
horror –
my head has awaken, my body
has not.

A house is clouded with
my ghosts. Beautiful,
disgusting!
Numbing my legs with
a chainsaw gaze, I am barely breathing
again.

Her pale hands reach out
to
my frozen plan. I am barren, dry of
thought, palpitating.

The daylight brings demons enough, but
I cannot
escape the night.
It comes as expected. Never without
ugly dread
and
cold sweats. Always.
Always
soaked with paralysis, drenched
with the past.