Her silken degenerate thighs induce
Vertigo, his eyes slide under her skirt,
Viscous and intractable like honey.
Absinthian, this angel, prefers nightmares
To flesh, her wounds, anemic like the gaping
Mouths of fish, render her impervious to advance,
She shrugs him off wordlessly, lips as sharp and
Taunt as a razor-vine
=
His protean tongue can find no opening
No means to smooth the tension in her
Fingers and brow. She withdraws, ineffable
Behind splayed lashes, like spider legs
Turning a web, ensnaring; her deadly
Down-turned chin distending further
His venous desires
=
Feverish and slack-jointed he retreats, lacewing
Panacea inveterate, nerve-bleaching, spurious
He strokes misplaced organs, lungs face down
In the abdomen, hearts spread thinly underneath
The epidermis. Midas dolls, these hollow symmetries,
That offer no easement beyond a flip-switch carnality
=
A dead chamber, empties decapitated clovers, his
Eyes perishable, collapsing, he draws her name like
Graffiti on every stretch of open canvas, inside bone
Channels, ink replacing marrow. His adversarial spirit
Denounces golden statuary, crepuscular appetites suspended
By the dawning of love. Nascent, expectant, He tries again,
Sleeves pulled back to expose the underside of his wrists, his
Blood-born disease, this girl is not another dandelion reject,
She sees through him savage and intuitive like peyote,
She mouths “Maybe” while creeping down the fire-escape
=
(I went for another dadaist-like poem granted I am my own newspaper so I supply the words for shuffling, I have too much fun making up words)
mindlovemisery 