140707B
--------------
The iron lung
time capsule,
rocket ship,
headed past take off
into interstellar space,
feeling the heart throb
beating echo
in the emptiness
of the sighing engine
pulsating gushing
of forced rhythms,
and you lie there
like a sex organ
pushed and pulled
constantly stimulated
but unable to orgasm.
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140707C
-------------
You concealed your injuries,
making them turn into budding flowers,
the red petals struggling to unfold
from under a hardened torn layer of integument..
You made it seem all the same
as the soft and oozing filling
seeping from under the broken crust,
all apple yellow and sugary.
The bandages were only a paper wrapper,
listing some pertinent details,
as to properly naming things,
now crippling the conversation,
while the chocolate melted underneath
staining the white surface
a watery shade of brown.
I had always wanted all of you,
from the beginning when we met,
but you felt you had to remain distant
until you had been carved at,
the way the roast is carved at table,
held together with those strings
that disappear under the skin.
Something comes away from the bone,
and you want me to lick the gravy
from those surgical instruments
that have known you more intimately
than you would let me know you.
They had touched you
and they had been inside of you,
while you kept me more distant.
I had always wanted all of you,
but this is now all that I get from you,
and I wonder why it has changed
so very much
from how the seduction began,
when you first started to entice me,
never suggesting the slightest hint
that there was an invalid inside of you
wanting to make love,
but disabled from having sex.
You make me want to touch you,
but the doctors scribble a prescription
with someone else's name on it,
and you turn away,
as if we never meant anything
to each other.
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140707D
-------------
Any attempts to go nearer
only get tangled up in deeper mysteries,
the way a sapper gets tangled
in gunfire and razor wire,
rending the hopes to shreds of torn
apart from limb to limb.
It takes courage to continue,
and it takes courage to break off,
to go away from it all,
but in the end it is all meant to be the same
proof of cowardice
no matter which way one plays one's hand.
Every time I want to say I love you,
it becomes as if there is an electric shock
meant to make me feel I am an experimental rat,
always making the wrong moves
in a maze that has no real beginnings
and no real ends.
You withold the reward of your lips,
as if I have made another fatal mistake,
but you always refuse to tell me what that is,
making me feel everything is becoming a mortal sin,
and you are a pope, making ex cathedra statements
that refuse to allow us any more dialogue.
It all makes me want you even more
than I wanted you before,
until that includes the entire list
of all of your latest imperfections,
and not having you nearer to me
makes me want to sin in ever more orignal ways.
I see them walking hand in hand,
and sometimes I dream it could be us,
but you discard the thought like a rubber glove
that has been involved in an examination.
I gather up my body parts,
trying to think of somewhere to put them.
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140707E
-------------
It is the same as a morgue,
where nothing ever warms up,
and everything that happens
is continually dissected.
There is a monotonous reportage
of intricate details,
misinterpreting any semblance to life,
as we might have known it.
Everything grown as chill,
as a refrigerated affair,
going nowhere,
preserved in formaldehyde,.
There are no traces of explanation,
among the fragments of ancient history
deciphered from the ruins
of good times before your apocalypse.
I find no answers in the report,
and I am left all alone again,
with only the questions as to what happened
to what seemed like a true love.
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