I’ll meet you where there is no darkness
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.
***
Nice pen
ReplyDeleteNice penmanship
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