Everything’s most beautiful at night,
that’s why it needs be darkened by a cloak

All beauty is to be obscured
from our undeserving eyes

As not to stain its grandeur
by thinking it sublime

I went looking after her smile, but it seemed I was given the wrong map. As I understood it, a smile wavers between lips and eyes, but I only came across a nose. I kept exploring, and rethought the directions I had, but remained lost. This time instead of a nose I stumbled upon a navel; so I kept looking. Searching. Can it be that one smiles with the whole body? I uncovered every last inch of skin with a thorough gaze yet wasn’t able to find where the smile hid. I looked from afar and real close, but never got close enough to your smile. Perhaps if you were still here, I’d be able to find your smile.

The train, bus, car moves faster and thus leaves your resting gaze behind, perched upon an ever fleeing, shrinking back, neck or smile. And as the trees, houses, mountains merge into a single nauseating line; so do your memories into a single sepia kitschy photograph.

Today, I  stumbled upon an imperfection on my water cup –a protruding bulge disrupting the otherwise Smooth. Circular. Perfect rim.

So that I, as I –unaware– brought myself to drink; felt this quirk, the cup’s pouting lip, pressing sternly against my own quivering pair.

I can’t remember the last time I was kissed or someone kissed by me. So the question if I should find solace in a plastic cup is now nailed to my mind.

But I know I’ll break the promise of finding to this question an answer by drinking the water.

Because after all, it’s just that. Water.

I remember being younger
heading home on the school bus
and closing my eyes shut
Sometimes with the tongue out sometimes
not
posing for a corpse
waiting for someone to notice
that I had died
for someone to call my name so I couldn’t respond
This - everyday after school

Joy:
– Fleeting savior from the grave
– So it’s Time’s most treasured slave
– It in thralls Thanatian thoughts
    by the use of their own cuffs

    +As an albatross mid-flight
      caught and placed on deck
      by the weight of its own wings
      being from flight kept

Oh, warm bed;
     most murderous depredator
of midnight reverie

Suffocator of thoughts,
Stifler of desires,
                desires for fervor
Sufficed by lukewarm
                                        blankets
    
“Frozen feet far take your mind!”

If these bedclothes
                       were not my socks, my coffin