Languid tendrils of smoke unwind
The ashes of your affliction.
There is comfort in the sun's underbelly.
When you play half-lidded pool drenched in
Artificial lights, the night seems endless.
Once dusk falls, the world outside scatters
And settles together in close quarters
Like bunkers under air raid.
Last cherry blossom
Falling, dancing with my gaze
A distant echo
He drowns himself in cities:
Grey walls and blue lights.
Maturity, they call it, when
Blood turns brittle and eyes
Lock the soul. Warmth
Comes in bottles now.
An itch for slicing in my pulsing touch
painfully receded when I saw the red
stripes cower beneath your sleeve.
I can't breathe when my friends breathe
smoke then take shelter in my innocence, because
A thirst for anesthetic poison
sullenly diminished when I watched you lose
all shame over several brews and strip
your soul to merry strangers.
I can't breathe when my friends choke
on white dust then bask in my self-discipline, because
A wanderlust for places away from you
ruefully subsided when you anxiously inebriated
to save my waning faith in you.
I can't breathe when my friends labor
cheer then grip tightly to my tolerance, because
I do the same.
Playing with tenses and repetition!
Hungry teeth razors
Slice to scar my hand.
Watching the black symbol redden
Quenches my thirst like a cold beer.
Shield me from their fear;
and with clear eyes,
among socialite imbued rags,
I shall face my pain
Or live a conscious death.
Tins dangle off bare branches,
Strike to drown the bitter howls.
The train pulls out.
I was not on it.
I should have been on it...
After the clang clang clang and
The click clack of the wheels,
Followed the patter of my friend's
Remains on the battleground.
Now they're after me:
With the patter of the rain
Beating on my skull.
Every step I take
Brings you closer to the cliffside.
At home, their pictures crowd my pillow,
Whisper like nymphs.
A corroded coin
Apologizes, abandoned in our arid cup.
I turn to face the towering metropolis
And let my ninth staff illuminate the smog.