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Butch Decatoria Oct 2016
awake
in unusal hours my midnight wyrm
slithers to squirm
in our restless bed his fiery head
in water
downed dreams,
almost thrashing about
magnificently
blue swordfish from harshest seas
glistening skins,
hooked
on lines and sinking pipes
tremulous thoughts distracted
somewhere

in attics, dim dusty
addicts to something other-worldly than
he / wakes earlier now
to escape prying eyes discovery
preparingly
locks the bathroom door
         the faucet
sounds
         the shower's
hiss  rebounds, and mini black ipod
roars his secrets to classic rock,
guitar riffs to running ****
camouflage

soundtrack
star trek captain's cloaking devices
what i hear he tells me
It's all inside my own guilt,
paranoia,
          dementia from mind projections

he shrills i am imagining :
the tapping of fingernail on syringe plastic...
then why barricade yourself,
all that sounds
in hollow porcelain:
         steam without heat
         sweat without pores
my heart is sore, and is breaking
while you are slamming
without basketball diaries
Testicles even...
To have
the courage of simply waking
if ever
Or never
at all...

*(He locked himself in the
On suite
For at least two
Long hours...
I needed to take a shower.)
Previous to edit, the title use to be.   in sadness & courage.

— The End —