paperleaves
12-20-2009, 02:15 AM
emulsified, the symmetry
of the lines that offset you from me
are lain askew in willow caskets searching for
the bust and build of God's solace.
my veins are on fire, as if
blood was a viscous solution, permeating
each vessel with no means to an end.
topical affection, a pledge with perforated boundaries
an umbilical sneeze interrupts the
howl of cackling angels
dancing in the silhouettes of every sinner's guilt
and I lay half-naked in bed, hoping that some day they'll smite me
for the heathen I am, and always will be
in this pallor, this wide-eyed stupor, this
inexplicable dream
devastating the crowds beyond worth and watching the
moment relived a thousand times, the sands may change
but the altar will survive
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
394
it's freezing
and I'm swaddled in nothing but the warmth
of loneliness
and a teacup. goddamn, you were beautiful,
like the relic of a Greek god, awaiting atonement
from my hands, and maybe my breasts, and maybe my lusts
and all I wanted to do was lay
quietly in bed with you.
all I wanted
was to make you breakfast in bed and brew you black coffee
because you always seemed to like things bitter
and draw out your reservations
like apprehensive snakes in the deep recesses of your mind.
more than anything, I want to show you my birthmarks, my freckles, my dimples
and introduce you to my imperfections
so that someday you might trust me enough to explicate
everything that scares the f*** out of you
of the lines that offset you from me
are lain askew in willow caskets searching for
the bust and build of God's solace.
my veins are on fire, as if
blood was a viscous solution, permeating
each vessel with no means to an end.
topical affection, a pledge with perforated boundaries
an umbilical sneeze interrupts the
howl of cackling angels
dancing in the silhouettes of every sinner's guilt
and I lay half-naked in bed, hoping that some day they'll smite me
for the heathen I am, and always will be
in this pallor, this wide-eyed stupor, this
inexplicable dream
devastating the crowds beyond worth and watching the
moment relived a thousand times, the sands may change
but the altar will survive
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
394
it's freezing
and I'm swaddled in nothing but the warmth
of loneliness
and a teacup. goddamn, you were beautiful,
like the relic of a Greek god, awaiting atonement
from my hands, and maybe my breasts, and maybe my lusts
and all I wanted to do was lay
quietly in bed with you.
all I wanted
was to make you breakfast in bed and brew you black coffee
because you always seemed to like things bitter
and draw out your reservations
like apprehensive snakes in the deep recesses of your mind.
more than anything, I want to show you my birthmarks, my freckles, my dimples
and introduce you to my imperfections
so that someday you might trust me enough to explicate
everything that scares the f*** out of you