I’ll meet you where there is no darkness
I’ll meet you where it rains acid on the impotent fields across the exhausted canal. Where the walls are parched with debris, And air dusted with coal tar; Skyscrapers surrounded by diarrhoea. Where the sprung laden fountains in the increasing grotesque growing weed sprite Chlamydomonas and Cocci. We’ll tear, hitting, banging the china dish; Petrified mannequins; Plundered domes and scratched epitaphs- Naked body, armours of unicorns in the rosy markets, Cheeks sunken dry in the midnight solar lamps; Making love in front of an impaired bathroom lizard serenading in a cheap lodging. Banging coffee mugs. Lust. Pity. Self-hatred. Pity. Lust. Banging books. My fingers sore by talking to various men. And women. Staring at keyholes and guilty walls; Peeping through windowpane; towards a distant asterism. And speaking to self, alone in 13F, Community flats, Dystopia. ***
