A new year came born last night
Or an old one died
Worn and used, useless
Amidst champaign, påte and toasts.
This new day, new noon, new year
Black tie, fine clothes folded,
Noted a shirt stud lost
And must be replaced.
Before we part five stars
Rented the night
I would
Step outside for a cigarette -
No smoking inside, only cigars.
It's just the help who smoke
Paper wrapped scraps
Out back by the trash
And I wouldn't be welcome.
Lobby busy with guests
On their ways through
Doors held open to
Black labeled autos
Where the heeled reach hand
To men whose faces they avoid
Exchanging obligatory graft
Glad their craft returned.
January air stabs
Its frigid blade slicing
Nostrils, lungs in pain, cheek burns
Frost earns my mustache.
Finally past the bustle
Some steps to the side
Where my fix can be lit
"Hey, brother"
A voice, a wretch
Cold taken its toll, nasal exudate
Frozen in a lake on lip
He hopped from foot to foot
And I smelled him, vagabond
An assault to air already painful
Oh, to walk on, feign deafness!
But needy eyes held me
Refusing the cigarette offered
He just wanted to say
"Happy new year"
Know that he existed.
Brown eyes cried
That someone finally stopped
To listen.

Your name wrung
between the lines of
fresher tender cuts.
Brushing a slower finger
over dusty pages,
disturbing untold stories
that was long untouched.

Your name is
the tap-tap of hammer nails
and the crimson consummator.

The barricading name,
of the mesmeric temple of apologies
molded by unequivocal agony and anger
lying in the bleak moor
laced with your remnants.

My mind is left shambled on the floor,
shards of memories
now leaking as exudate
am I being inflamed?

If I were to paint this across the canvas,
it’d be red, blue then purple
a galaxy with mismatched constellations
on a rippled fabric of night skies.

If I were to ink you to paper,
tracing you in black
you’d diffuse, cry and leak
into a pool of red,
dripping at the edge of the paper.

You are the cactus
pricking with every temptation.

The one engrained in my figmentation
wrapped in lessons
coloring the pigmentation of my skin
with various hues.

You are the open wound
with the fabricated scab.

You are the name
that rings inside my head,
echoing through my memories
trembling shakes, tremors
through the cronies
widening the past a little
more within me.

Then I will
no longer gasp for breath
risk to open the window
and cry out

yes then I will
take off my clothes
every night without worries
and sleep relaxed

then I will
no longer see fire-barrels
and banners in the museums
only **** switches and red buttons

then I will
receive uninvited guests
and everything I wish for
because long ago

now
I have made a start
not to listen anymore
to harsh words

now
I carefully absorb the exudate
wash the blood-stained cloths
and convert my lookout posts

now
I pick up the broken eggs
clean up free of charge
now I have made a start

String the teeth from face onto necklace,
  for it's the last time it'll be of concern.
Backlash into a hot headed toss of the formerly important,
tokens of remembrance now, stiffly, cardboard, laid.
Untouched and unwarranted.
As the nails are pushed to the cheek,
      into the gums,
             the smile is cranked upward into place.
Pliers tasting of metallic tainted rust dig deeper into the jaw.
  Exudate flowing by the gallon.
Visage contorted to be only picturesque,
   for how dare the front line not be delighted by a delirious stag