Lounging in the dry warmth of the sun,
overcome by the beauty of the green cliffs
rising above the hypnotic blue water. . . .
  
I think of Mann's The Magic Mountain,
obsession with the physical
(not, in this case, disease, of course,
but the sensual):
  
skin glowing in the year-round sun;
ripe fruit
falling into one's hand;
air, rich with the smell of flowers. . . .
  
Wouldn't such pleasure
inevitably dull the mind's keen edge?
  
Wouldn't Eden's ease
subvert all great endeavor?

to be assured
of a roof above
my head,

and a mother
who will cook
for me lovingly,

nothing is so
damning as
absolute safety,

I am the human
cat this fading
winter, wait

and I may soon
grow whiskers,
the days fling

away like speeding
scenery from a
train window,

I sing my
death song,
tomorrow,

tomorrow...

I didn't want to show you
I didn't want you to try
I can stare at the ceiling for hours
And feel like minutes have gone by
You aren't much to look at
Baby neither am I
I didn't want you to try
I really didn't want you to try

Baby can't you see
It isn't you it's just the lethargy
I can't move my limbs but I can
Move my lips
And I can talk to you
I wanna talk to you

-E (c) 2017

I can smell the lethargy in the air as the rain comes down.
Who told you you could write all over my skin?

Territorial disputes.

Casually manhandling death and the rain
don’t stop, the rain           don’t stop.
Biting ******* under neon colours.
Stuffing your face and drowning in the barrel-
Drowning in the rain of your pain.

Contempt for conformity. Body builders of human agony.
The vivid dreams stopped months ago.
Flashes of blood running down my neck.

This winding road is ****** and this skin is too tight.
Grinning mouths with men hanging at the corners.
Unsteady flooring and gums aching.

I’m heady from the drinks, the want and the sweat.
This tube smells of metal, blood and ****.
There’s a nightmare pulsing in between my legs.
Laughing hyenas pull at my clothes.           I give in.

Vaccinate me for control.

Chapped lips in the cold. Stomach acid scratches at my soul.
Flashing streetlights, cars, dancing on my window.
Magnetic network of obligations and purpose.

Buzzing in the world and screeching in my ears.
Monotone high pitched frequencies and I’m going mad, I’m going       mad.

The itch, the itch the pulse           in the eye,

the everlasting night, the bite,

the blood.

I’m a mess of filaments,

my nerves are barbwire.

Your fingers feel like bombs.

Psychosis, migraines, want.           A hollowed out gut.

Out of body,

overlooking this city.

You stand next to me, naked and shivering.
My cigarette shakes at the lips.

It falls and I          let          myself                               fall.

This lethargy I feel
Breeds sadness in
My soul
And with nothing
To distract me
From the shadows
Creeping in,
I am smothered
By the weight
Of their increasing
Gloom,
Sifting through
These restless hours
In the silence
Of my room.

Why won't you let me **** you?

How much force does it take to squeeze the life out of you?
Why do you persist such agonies and endure your strife being beat down into the mud? A vortex of emotions running rampant, but in the blink of an eye, consumed and swallowed whole. Now there is an empty and sick acre. And though the leaves are green on the other side of the fence, i sit here bound to you.

Time has become a mind numbing drug that i hav egrown impervious to over the years. I no longer have the dirt left to bury you. The only  hope for me was to **** you but here you persist. Neither narcotics nor psychoanalysis got rid of you. I could not fit you in any container.

Unrelenting, savage, corrupted, mauling and swiping at me. Sleep was a temporary escape but you found a way into that world as well.

It seems i will forever carry you on my shoulders. My burden to bear, my medal of shame, a trophy of my failings, a banner proudly flying in the rainy nights.

So why can't i **** you?

Is it because you are a memory?

Papers, not stacked but strewn the mess piles up
Somewhere, underneath the smoke
The bandages, there is the remote