Quietus Erotic

I still fantasize love play, to gaze
on hands that seek my saltiness,
desperate thoughts that birth lies

and bury candor in a shallow grave.
I sought to forget my masked mutation
but here it sits, immeasurable,

fixed on the edge of my tongue.
At night, I shudder with sinister dreams;
my acumen screams, watching venerated

femininity pocked into eternity.
My term is finished, my profanity just beginning.
They assure me that time will assuage,

“you’re amongst a multitude of peas”
my shipmates sigh and wrack:
how can reality ever again exist unabridged?

My fingers dance where I
wish to remain beautiful. First I begged for death,
now as the temporal milieu rolls by
I frantically grasp at resurrection.

Overstay my Welcome

Every time

very time

devouring

my private monster, my secret maestro

devouring me.

I’m watching you hold my heart

in your hands

pleading me to stay

washing my mud away

tellin’ me it’s night not day

and oh, I’m so far away

and afraid

I’ve lost my play

and here you are askin’ me to stay.

Commentary: This is the ending of a poem I wrote years ago–not about a lover but about a job I wanted to quit–unfortunately the beginning was lost because it was stolen, along with my backpack out of a friend’s car by a neighboring crackhead. I’ve never really had the heart, or ideas, to rebuild it. Oh well, it would have been good!