I come up,
You end
Passion bursts in where it used to Suspend
It could be like a tragedy
You under the semi_light
Love has its own strategy!

_

I tore my hand from hers and I stumbled backwards feeling disgusted.  Feeling disgusting.  

Soiled, oily.

Five bottom-shelf screwdrivers and a pitcher-and-a-half of cheap beer briskly informed me that my stomach was a little too happenin, and they were gonna go ahead and go.  

Like, NOW.

I ran towards the bathroom, elbowing several people out of the way as I went.

Several much larger, and leather-clad Mowhawkians.

Moshers who had been standing in line for at least 15 minutes.

How I didn't get punched I will never know...

I careened into the stall like a methhead pinball and got ready to lose my liquid lunch.  

The watery hi-***** and natty light must have seen the same sight I did, because they decided they didn't really have anywhere to be after all.

I propelled myself away from the nightmare cesspool masquerading as a toilet, mostly by force of horror.

Luckily my legs wanted the **** out of there as badly as the rest of me, and they shakily complied.

Rocking side-to-side like a punch-drunk prize-fighter in Round-9, I bulled past an eight-foot-tall stick-figure goth-person, and it hit me:

I am going to have to tell her....

I was suddenly alone in the club.

...I am going to have to tell the love of my life that another woman kissed me.

The electricity went out.

Not in the seedy South East D.C. nightclub, but inside me.

The room was still, full of the life-like statues of dancers.

Lasers, frozen-fire, suspended in darkness and smoke.

The color had drained, like a rerun on a black & white TV...

I could only watch as my life crumbled in my mind's eye.

In the midst of this noisy, noxious, overcrowded *******.

In deafening, rhythmic silence.

What passed for air was sweaty-*****, and midsummer dank even in winter.

But the air around me became crisp.

Not crisp like the wind in February,

Crisp like the silence in a tomb.

Fitting.

Because I won't survive this.

I didn't know it yet, but this $5 cover open-bar might as well have been my tomb.

Sealed as tightly as my fate.

With a kiss.

As I lie here, half awake
my brain juices stewing
your memory makes me quake
with absolute longing

You come in quietly
sit on my mind’s edge
soft pads silent as Cait Sith
perched on a dream ledge

Your face is never the same
it’s what is within that I recall
I don’t even know your name
still for you each time I fall

We walk the dream land
your hand light on my wrist
our sweet union unplanned
a reaching through mist

It seems I arrive as you’re
on your way to leave
your foot through the door
offer me your bed for reprieve

It’s so hard to let you go
let go of essence effervescence
for your return I don’t know
beyond reminiscence

of those golden hours
when being with you’s my bliss,
O shape heart’s mind scours
from depths so often remiss

during the hours I am awake
so at night my heart will play
make my essence quake
wish never to go back to day
~
NM
11/29/20

So much for the destiny of man,
the potential of our youthful imaginings.
No more has it been than a carrot on a string,
a flash in the pan,
a ******* that's kept us afloat
on a sea of dreadful sleep.
And in waking, a feeling,
a dim sense of purpose laid out for us
like another warm blanket to wrap in,
to cover our eyes long enough
for that familiar vision of tragedy
to come and feed our fantasies again.

Leaden sky blanket of soaked thoughts
Adding wars back,
Giving the pale impression of illness,
Enthusiastic thunders,
Changing weather,
Swirl of birds
Darkness reflection of a world beyond
Imagination.
Changing weather,
Prosaic surfing, swivel,
Swirl of conspiracy
Theories
Conspicuously visible,
Relented turf
In a bout of self-pity.
Awake from this tragedy
Of disillusion
Finding the way to a clean resolution.
Enjoyment of theories
Opening,
Look for heaven.
Where is my perfect heaven?!

There are no limitations

on how far people can go
and no boundaries
---------------------------------
that couldn't be crossed

Like the footprint of rain in the gaze of sun
The ghost of a torrent, now has come undone
Woman of beauty, barely 22
This woman could be me or could be you
Feels the depth of earth like it is her womb
This nasty world of men diggin' her tomb
What a waste it is brimming with bliss
When your noose's disguised inside a kiss
Love comes and it goes, just like the wind blows
She falls in love but here come its woes
Woman of beauty, barely 22
This woman could be me or could be you
Sells her heart to strangers and thieves
Numb in the chest, She's no breath to breathe
Like the footprint of rain by the edge of shore
One moment she was and then was no more.

Tina RSH