A Boys Death

I have tasted evil, yet the seeds of my dispair dwell beneath my breast germinating.

I have begun to age so soon, my clothes sit ill on me.

The bed I have lain on since a boy of eight has grown cold and insolent; laughing as I cry out at night.

A clock chimes & they are filling the house, they have become irrepressible. I can no longer handle them.

My traps become mere playgrounds as they become veterans at my misfortune, waiting to devour for their own selfish needs.

I curse them with many deaths but once is enough; I have no stomach for drawn out law suits.

The cold enters my mouth removing vegetation & prodding my organs into wild thoughts of deceit.

Sleep lays at my shoulder like some cheap mistress, forgotten for the moment but there when I awake.

My mistress withdraws her sweet lips that have caressed & woven grains of immortal love between us.

The air is mixed, aggressive, a face of miming words and images of death and desolute seas forgotten.

The breath of a God's kiss stale between my lips, I hand over my fragile life to a woman who was born and to a man that was created.

Though I have gazed on her neon flesh & rudely remarked how boring life is, I cherish the drifting with no obligation to buy, no promises or innocent attentions.

I camouflage my instinctive moments of pleasure by replenishing my body with the scent of white thighs, thighs that only the moon can provide me; for I am naked and inexperienced.

I feel that I need to know more of what has happened.

I cannot explain this insane helplessness of irrational behaviour.

How strange

I no longer have a body to be proud of or parade in front of the hallway mirror.

I run and I cry.

I no longer care as my eyes and mouth become filled with death and tears.

I turn my head and by kissing the lips of eternity the lid is lowered in place.