I see the way that you look at me,
with your judging eyes alone,
you make me feel insecure.

So, I smile at you,
try and make you see,
that looks aren't what they seem.

But your eyes remain cold and judging,
you look at me like I am the most repulsive being ever,
And it hurts me, because I know it's true.

delicate swirls
                              abstract motif
                                                             dainty spirals



I.
I see you as a wide sheet of fabric
Beautiful, paisley pattern
Highlighting your *odd qualities
That I love, more than you could get.

How you shimmer and shine
So well.



II.
Yet, I knew not that there exists -
Very quietly bold and calmly geometric;
Another sheet beneath this visible one
A layer concealed, that only my oblivion feels.

How you shiver and hide
So well.



III.
So, as I learn and delve and discover
Burrowing passages and intense pathways
A myriad of tunnels within tunnels
Where is the real you?


How alone; thought I knew you
So well.



IV.
Am I thus lost?
Blinded so by the light in your patterns....

[said in one breath:
so, I try to brush ever lightly over artefacts of your stained existence,
ensuring I leave no trace of me...
there I go making a new layer (for me)
only to see...another layer....and yet
another....]

layer upon
         layer upon
                  layer upon
                           layer upon....
layerrrr.



V.
Into the icy face of wind, words are flung
Only, they come back...messier!

Disaster.....blast the blundering heart in dusty chokes
Love thrives not in intemperate climes.


At which point did you let your voice die?
Perhaps you hide in fear, of suffering alone....

So long.



VI.
There stands a figure in the circle of light....lonesome
We hover near the highly-charged cosmos of chance
Daring the winds to take us, off guard
To glide away on impossible parades....




S T, 28 April 2013

and *****, slimy and rotten
to the core.
The Id rules here
so ******* and fighting
at playtime now means
****** and killing
for breakfast.
I had feelings once
when the world was bright
and what the fists didn't beat out of me,
the women devoured.
I would give anything
to just be the mighty
sycamore guarding
the park.
Anything to not be this, now.
No lilies in my eyes
since you left me,
like they all do.
No amber
or candles
or soft kisses on
wet thighs.
Nothing but filth
and the familiar stench of
being alone and unwanted
here.
Filth and refuse,
remnants of earlier tortures,
limbs and guts,
decaying art of us
stinking up the place.
It's a sunny day here but
the shadow of our rot
weighs heavy.