Monasterium
Succumbing to the temptations of my flesh, again
needle-rush blotting out the guilt, euphoria
comes in waves, and you,
you are always here
leading the parade of zombie memories
reminding me that solitude, sweet solitude
is not such a bad place to be
Succumbing to the wiles of insane flesh
I crawl, pressed to the floor
From the toilet to the bed to my waking dreams
of you, of colder places
warm sweat, blood on my hands,
nocturnal cravings sated by our needle-games of lust
I have found God in your image
in nightly visions, feminine emissions,
my own brand of salvation, redemption,
in these junky dreams of you
where we are both
alive.
Longing for the Quiet
Nothing is stone.
Impermanence
Is life. My mother once left me
in the tub too long-I shit myself
and almost drowned. She apologized and I
think
I forgave her.
with each passing year, it grows harder
to keep this life-farce going. I feel
every stone dying beneath my boots, crumbling
into gravel, into sand,
into kitty litter falling on my grave, my eyes
turn, dry, back in my head
looking for the peace, the quiet, the dark
I know I've seen in others
so close, but never been able
to reach.
succolumbus
Your sweat sticks to me, humidity
when I brush you, walk by you
making noises, trying to snare your
crazy eyes-look at me.
This desperation isn't like me
is what I go through
every time I see someone
with those eyes, with that fire
it's just my demon craving friction
evaporation,
violation,
some giant pulsing sponge
deep inside me screams your name
to me, in my sleep, I can't sleep
I see your eyes behind my lid
in every dark, every night-
it feels the same way
every time
dreams are not enough.