Exploding.
A need to touch and
be touched
overwhelms.

Laughter climbs this brick wall
Rusted and crumbling,
Crumbled and rusting,
Deteriorating, until the laughter itself crumbles,
Lost between its porous exterior.
And what is left behind crawls
Scraping its underbelly against the crumbling
Carried along silken ribbons.

Trapped amidst my curtains
tossed between,
and inside,
and among, my white lace curtains
come to rest beside my head,
laid on my pillow,
my silken-laced pillow.

Sliding deep into my ear
laughter soon gurgles from my lips.
Crawling along my tongue’s terrain,
leaving its waste for me to taste.

Echoed emptiness resounds.

Laughter.

Your sustenance has left this place.
Taking with it happiness, lost along the way.

Taking with it happiness, lost among the bricks

Rusted and crumbling,
Crumbled and rusting.

Whimsical girl
Stupid girl
The world is not yours like an oyster’s pearl
Theatrical girl
Imbecile girl
You think you speak to the masses?
Impudent girl
Intolerable girl
No one is listening
Poor girl
Disillusioned girl
The world will never change.

Muddled words are stuck
-here don’t you see-
If I could I would give them to you.
Oh please don’t cry, it’s unbecoming
You do understand don’t you?
Let us walk and speak of nothing
But
Perhaps the breeze
Or
Maybe the troubadours
Singing of unattainable love.

This is all very wonderful

Please my boy don’t cry
Soon enough out will come the fireflies.
We will watch them twinkle between
The weeping willow branches, and
We will laugh.

Ha Ha Ha

It shall be a glorious day
And night
And soon you will forget my muddled words
-Now you don’t see them anymore-
And we shall laugh and sing

Creak is the sound of steps pressed against old floorboards.
So comforting are the memories of another time
When into the attic I explore.
Dust is layered upon the floor
On boxes
On cans
On tins that hold old sewing things.
Christmas long gone resides in the corner
Halloween by the door waiting for fall
Old dresses lay pressed and folded between delicate paper
That I dare not touch lest they crumble.
From tins come trinkets
In boxes old toys
Through sun shined windows I see clothed mannequins.
This attic so old so layered with dust
I leave unaffected barely a footprint or touch.

This cello cries out
With ecstasy the bow is drawn carefully atop the strings
Each cry is beautiful with its shrills
Sway as a bough amidst the torrents of desperate
Melodies. Each utterance is a cry of anguish
Utter grief is poured forth from polished wood
Resounding echoes through the crumbling hall.
Grief is clutching at the mortar between the bricks
Melodies of pain engulf each tumbled debris that falls
turning to dust.
Play that wooden instrument that from its shrillest cries dives
Into bellows of rage that resonates to the core of the soul.
Each molecule is rattled each person left not unaffected with this grief
Transcended from humanly hands into a preternatural world of Gothic angels and demons
Summon all with that instrument
Let them fall to their knees in awe of this,
To this sound which has been given its soul from the source of us all.

This is us.
Your fingers
your chest
your legs
your tongue tasting my sweetness.
(you call it my sweetness)
My body responds to yours
each heartbeat timed
with the surge of sporadic pulses.