The Other Side Of Love

Darkness is the culprit that lingers behind
each slice of sweet Nectarine.

I am late.
I’ve been here before.

The other side of love.
The place that dissects the tongues
of former lovers
and turns them into layers.

love on
anger on
love on
hate on
jealousy on
love

on poison liquid every night before we stumble to sleep
with the darkness that caresses our feet
and convinces us that we love ourselves
to much to live on the other side.

I am late.
I’ve been here before
where I could feed you Mercury
while the sun sets on us forever.

I’d caress your feet and pray to the darkness
to take you far away
from my love.

A Man And The Worms

It harms me so loud and still,
the sweet departure of
a man and
the worms rolling about.

My window grants lengthy
gossip,
a red haired indiscretion
on his lips,

his soft offering
on a great night,
in a devil’s way.

He drinks like manslaughter,
his pleasant flee to the clouds;
to the moon burning out

his own execution.
We range from youth to wisdom,
he and I,

my blessing is here,
splintered between floor boards.

He is on his way out.

The worms vomit tar around
my window sill,
we slip together in service, but

he keeps a foot on the back door.
Sleep has a price that
I pretend not to notice,
close my eyes,

and should he have loved me,
I’d pity his silence and
let the worms have him.

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.