the **** takes a walk
with a pretty girl it wants to fall in love with.
the feet lead the way exploding acorns.
the shoulders seem expansive in this sensible polo shirt.
the forearm veins are doing impressive work.
the mouth tells an endearing story and
the tongue slips in a joke.
the voice floats through the teeth like clouds.
the mind tells the arm to hold her hand
and the fingers interlock with ease.
her eyes tell the lips to kiss as she closes them.
but it's all distraction
look again:
the heart has never been darker or more withered.
the heart sits small and alone in the cold pulmonary cave
it punches the clock at the blood-pumping factory
with dispassionate obligation -- even spite.
inflammation runs rampant beneath the nonplussed exterior.
the shower water stings.
the breath is short and the ribs are cowardly.
the arms are bound with rope and the mouth is gagged.
the armpits are dripping on the sheets at night.
the tension knots the spinal erectors.
the fingers don't write. the fingers won't write.
the voice cracks and falls off the tongue like stone.
the eyes still lock on the memory of her skin in the moonlight
the eyes still lock on her portrait on the wall from last year.
the eyes still leak out occasionally.
we lived the lifestyle for a little while.
we're holding each other in a restaurant
i'm behind her in the bedroom holding her mouth shut
with the heart full enough to pop and redder than a beet.
i haven't seen her in months but
her hair's still stuck in my teeth.
i search her name online
from time to time.
the mind is sheepish and adolescent
and out of control.
the eternal weakness.