Drycicles

So here we are, at last, my dear,

Two steps from whispering what’s bound

To be the acronym of fear

I dare not breathe, you make no sound.

And staring at each-other calmly

Perhaps we’ll find a way to shout

Whose fault it was, but most and mainly,

What was the acronym of doubt.

We loved to play with words and pictures

Imaginary and contort,

We burned

Our acronyms and scriptures,

We burned the ephigies of old

We scarred the land and darkest sky

To build this ashen castle slowly,

And whisper at its door: “good-bye”

I want to sink my teeth in the souls of the dead

That still breathe in your conscience, prisoner,

You don’t know, but they dictated

What you are

What you did,

Where you were.

Who did you have to kill to get here?

Who did you have to rob to get you to that

“Anywhere”

That you hoped for, that “anywhere” you left

For.

Please help me sink my teeth in your memories

Devour

Your dreams

And incorporate flesh in my flesh, and emotion

Masticating your life as you throw it away

In this prison of fire

Could I borrow desire from you?

Or would you give it freely, so I can reach my “anywhere”

Too.

Let’s exchange places, for a second, will you bite at my breast

While it

Lasts?

There is a vacuum of myth, although the canvas of air is full of

Aroma,

There is a presence of pain, that forbids it to be

That prevents it from happening, dot and mark, mark and coma,

In between the parentheses and remained scrutiny.

This cinnamon heart will someday burst with flavour,

Like the dying tree it came from when I found it

And savoured it, Aulair.

It’s still there, chanting and flying, and dancing and feeling,

The song of the dying and the death of the singing.

A smell of corrosion poisoned the beat

Aulair lit a candle at the head of the comatose

Dozing his final sleep

Vagabond.

Still asleep,

I was

Keeping

My dreams

From eloping

It’s still

What it seems

Thoughts eroding

The pillow hurts,

The head is bursting with pain

Again

And again

How many headaches, how many

Thoughts?

It’s still there, pulsating with the joy

of the Tormentor

Defenceless,  with the aura of another

Migraine.

Be welcome, my familiar pain

I will still sleep, don’t deny me,

This slumber,

Better deep

than Under.

He reached out for the ghost, the displacing affect,

That surrounded the barren never-ending commotion,

To what fate, what effect, what conclusion in time
Will the word roll again to its yonder emotion?

I once knew a dark fairy, soulless rider of unicorn,

Now forlorn, over water, over oceans of crimson

Alabaster in skin, veins as gold as the sun falling over

Itself.

We once knew, sister Elf, what the world was about,

What the future would hold to the man, and the Shout,

and the Cry and the Laughter as the giggle of child,

I’m displaced by my doubt, drawing circles of winter,

Dreaming drums of the Baal and the cry of the crane

Lamentations of vain, and of ghosts navigating

On the skies at the gates

Of awakening.