If you resuscitate the world you see:It's an art.

Everything would come to an end,my love
             even the frenzied season of love we celebrate.
In loneliness I muse, dreamily
             pour the molten gold of my heart, incessantly
in to molds one after another;
            on this one I don't have to remind myself not even once,
in my consciousness  this abstract is darkly painted
                 on it's live silvery screen:

She sits waiting patiently for me to come to rest,
                 in that secluded, quiet house
where love and longing, sighs and moans,
                  even the poetic cadence, my only aphrodisiac,
like many hued evening clouds,
                       disappear in the dark, till the next day dawns.

Without colors & contrasts,
Without whispers & softness,

Without smiles & giggles,
Without caring & sensitivity.

Without jiggles & wiggles,
Without feminine beauty.

Without women,

Scream in the air to not cry.
Stomach twists like tangled vines.
Tears rise but refuse fall.
Violent sobs shake my all.

Legs give out after a while.
Back slides against cold tile.
Of course I'm okay.
Can't you see?

I'm just okay.
And this isn't killing me.

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"