Let me go in the Dark

I want to be in there
In the space of corpulent, infectious glands
Swallowing innocence with labyrinthine hands

Let me be one with the Night

My home is over there
In a place of ubiquitous fears
And a plethora of basking tears

Let me soak in the abyss

The void is so near
A comely figure,
an evocative sadist and protégé
Dripping candle wax on me
in San Lorenzo, Paraguay

Let me walk among ghosts

In the Portal Del So hotel
Tossing back Xanax;
Vicodin with a liquor chaser
Gin and vermouth, *****,
anything to forget her.

Let me wait in living purgatory

With other pods of skin
When the wind shakes the barley,
back home
Where a wife and son
never left me alone.

Let me go in the dark

Past the tortured guilt and sorrow
Where a family is made of flesh
and not ash
Where a house remains
and the fires don’t last

Let me cry and weep in silence

In a room with rotting drapes
A static-channel TV,
a two blade ceiling fan
People engulfed in one another,
A demon  for a man

Let me shower in cold, thickening blood

Standing atop broken medicine cabinet glass
So many packs a day of cheap cigarettes
and loose women
None ease the pain
like the morphine in the kitchen.

Let me go into the chasm

The vein snake is thirsty.
I take a little more each time it feeds
But maybe not waking up
is what the snake needs

Let me sleep in the dark

While infomercials for prayer play
Juxtaposed to a zealous vagabond
and father
The last serpentine dosage
for a broken martyr  
Let me go in the dark

Let me see them again

I’ll wait and watch the room shrink
And hope my eyes
never dilatorily blink.

"Your only flaw: you are flawless
and I just can't wait for love to destroy us."*

It's like moving underwater.
Motions tracing leisurely behind a rapid mind.
The heart bursts.
Contents dilatorily ejecting. Sharp shards of ruby splayed
in a resplendent eruption of primitivity, the pieces suspended
in seconds that last years and years, and years-
fleeting in seconds. It tastes like sunlight
and stage fright, painting the mouth a wet pink.
The eyes never truly knowing stillness
until the two gazes collide, melting into one, stuck in syrup
the flavor of searching. Teaching how to feel both
trapped and free, together in a romantic roll of quandary.  
Plains of silky naked skin, burning in lazy lines
softly remembering where fingertips grazed, caressing.
Love, I'm afraid,
is too often the beginning
of sad stories.
Stories about how the shattered pieces of bursting hearts, ruptured
by filling too quickly, too completely with the fluttering heartbeat
of another, did eventually drop.
Embedding their points in a too soft spirit.
Leaving a hot mangled meat,
the size of a fist. Damp, bleeding, raw, and barely beating.
Gushing, gushing, July to June.

My fire is dilatorily dissipating.
I was once a holocaustal conflagration.
A cremating, mad inferno.
Containing an unseeable array of vibrant shades of amber;
that could be seen from distant, distant regions.
I had once ignited with such a passion.
A drive that was beautifully unstoppable.
You were my blazing incendiary.
You started this combustible mess.
I am now but a flickering ember,
barely being able to spark.
My once scorching and numerous flames
have pulverized to ashes.
...Ironic isn't it?
The arsonist who dared to create me
whom fueled me with such a flammable tinder
was the same person
who tore me down
within seconds
with but a drop of water
and a blink of an eye.

A mission in law
let a Quaker inside this forrest trough's gold
where bold exhale made milk with insight

while our community shone but austerity captured the bones
that this lust was on the beat with fame

and dilatorily wept till obverse set the tone
even a sortie in the rain that kept this stony pillage
with her tide close to home:
still brimming in the wind
and Goan was spattered and stave our fold
though sudden a burst of incredulous
sin made her beckon in the wings.