Anamnesis

So many rooms in so many houses;
spaces within which the walls have waited,
        unseeing,
                uncaring,
as I played various roles
in minor dramas, some
of my own devising,
                some not,
        & most
being incomplete.

So many days wanting to stay away
from this mess, this reluctance;
                the daydream
of purposeful action
abandoning us with
                every movement
around the Sun.

The fragility of
                everything;
inevitable entropy
& we,
                the animals
that will not be themselves,
capable of knowing all this
wait
while words emerge to seek
a story worthy of acknowledging
                    that beneath
every surface
something waits
to be
            misunderstood.

Either serendipitous or fucked up:

The choice is yours.

The choice is mine,
           
            & I
                    can’t decide…

Harmonic Shivers

For S

The heart is only an organ:
anthropomorphisation of the flesh
is just another lie
                   but
poetry doesn’t need truth:

My heart speaks to you
& my skin dreams of you.
Harmonic shivers* slither up my spine
whenever I think of all those times we
spent together.

My fingertips have memories
of what we did to each other;
my liver is in mourning, my
veins keep flowing
     as my spine
                is shivering.

* Shivers – Against Me!

Élégiaque

For A

I no longer see why I should try not to relent
when the instinct kicks in:
fight or flight will never be a choice for
creatures like me:

some mammals just freeze…

but anyway,
please go ahead & tell me
about the problems
that weigh you down;

                    tell me about
the rivals who now also know
the sweet taste of your mouth,
                            & the others
that now know the secrets you hide inside…

Without you,
I see no reason not to think about
the old city & about
that lost life all the time:

a bride deprived of sensation & sight
after the bitter disappointment of
                                another dismal,
cliché wedding night,
through the senseless everything
I want to run,
              run,
run
      away
into
the bathetic,
self-inflicted
fuck up
of oblivion,

longing to forget everything,
except a dream I think I once had

I (still) adore you

For S

Every time we’re near enough to touch
                                    each other,
my body forgets the regrets
                           buried deep
in my mind & in my liver.

Do you remember when
we listened to that cover song
below a muted sun
                 as we waited
for a plane to take us away?

Just you & me
             singing
& free:

I can’t remember a more beautiful
moment
between us;

I can’t listen to that song
                                       any more…

but I will always adore you
just as we sang to each other
in that final summer

of our happiness.

What we do

Why do we do this to ourselves?

Tonight,
I will make my way to you
        again.

All night we will talk &
drink wine, while outside
twilight will silently deny
colour to the flowers of your garden.

Inside, we’ll remain ignorant
of all this save
for some ineffable sense of
        absence,

as we talk & laugh.
drink wine & then,
                perhaps,
we’ll fuck.

It’ll be fun
but through it all,
a loneliness will prevail:

The distance between us
is too vast to measure, & we
know that it won’t last forever.

Why do we do this to each other?