A sweet young mammal is requiring carnal desires when I am split in half and paralyzed.
I am haunted by my widow, my dead wife still caught in the living.
In the turn of a nanosecond proximity became abandoned history and lost memory of touch sensory.
I am jockeyed in a horserace of endless mazes and hologramming hurtles. I am betting with an overwhelming fear of horsepower.
Knowing a million shifts can not erase the past or the path that was taken.
Destruction like a tornado swallowed our happening and like Oz, took us to separate other zones.
When lost love knows there is no place like home, it avoids highways and hitchhiking.
It remembers it as suffocating abuse in flinching flashbacks. It renders it as beautiful and molding but somewhere to be weary of returning.
Our children have all but one deceased and gone.You fled before the funerals of our noble and young sons. During the death of our daughter you reached for me choking and sobbing but did not let me hold you all the while you were grasping.
Posts
1 comment:
Face down, ass up vulnerability. When will she become us? When will we love with a full stomach and not see the hungry faces of our past lovers eating at us. Fear the wrecking ball syndrome, we cast the flame upon her to rise again inside her, we take on her body. Past lovers lie and they want to kill, they seek destruction over communication, they curse us with names like sweetie, sugar, honey, baby ... Tattoos sleep on your body like her distorted face, they speak permanently about love and the lack of it and call you an asshole and then take it back, beautifully silent then raging, forever changing the way we look at our bodies, our minds,and our hearts.
You are the dead wife, haunting your precious body with the fear of her. Let her die in peace so that you may live!
Post a Comment