Saturday, May 19, 2012

dry sleeping eyes

Dry dock,
on four knees to
the crippled wood —
crumbling under
the history of idols.
Prosaic fathers who,
once left,
have returned
in the essence of this
breaking childhood.

the kissing exhausted.
Shaking remnants
of violet aura.
A hum vibration
from the back of the skull —
Awaiting the ache,
disturbed only
by the gaping wet.
The curves of a
black demi-god.
Engulfed by dense silence.
The weight sick,
pinning chest to spine,
lead filling lungs.
And the chakra — golden,
faded, losing resolution.
without death.

leaking blue.
The rain leaving,
bitumen dark ocean
holding four feet,
naked and blind.
A luminescence from above —
within reach.
As a million bleed,
orgasms screaming
at the burning sky.
The final desire —
The warm hands leading home.