Friday, March 26, 2010

more words, yet less coherence: a rambling-on I am unhappy with

[begun 3.22, 16:28]

"Love in the Form of Darkness"

I lie in bed past time, a pastime made possible
By the silencing of my alarm by a darker side of myself:
Awaking late, I scramble-stumble out of bed and grumble,
Put the music in my head and sing out for the passers-by
Who didn't invite my voice to their melancholy marchings.
Just another day as expected, as it always goes:
I walk half-sleeping through the doors and think of nothing
But you and wonder which words I'll stutter on when I see you,
Pondering looking forward to your face again.

As I make the grueling drive of lethargy I zone out in out in,
Escape a sour note, break a nail, and glance behind me
At an out-of-service police car, and I can't help but imagine
The antithesis you live,
The lights turning green as you approach them.

At last I see you, bumbling: my heart is beaming audibly;
You steal my breath away in a literal sense;
I make a fool of myself as expected, as it always goes;
Your image of me drops, my ego with it,
And I drag my feet back to this place called hesitantly home.
Here now I sit in this dank, dusty room of dirt,
Gray matter melting, molasses, into the dull of world's webbing,
Among too many clicks and hums and tweets and pokes and exhortations.

Your skin turns green with tiny digital fibers;
Feverish stomach leaps in bounds and twists and turns;
I type in preparation the words I've been planning all week;
The blinking barrier cursor stands upright in front of them,
Signaling the anxious of my scruples and the tinny tock-tick of time.
The Enter key demands a sudden burst of courage;
Quivering fingers imitate my mind,
And with a deep intake of superoxygen I tell them "tap."
The words appear and I stop breathing while I wait for you to say
You're not put off completely:
You speak just the words I want you to and I am disappointed.

This caustic act of coddled courting was the highlight of my day;
From there it goes downhill: you leave, I miss you.
I stick around and realise you have so many friends apart from me;
This doubly troubles me: I want to be your only.
Taking a step outside to heave out empty, grieve in pensive air,
This remnant quintuplet of wristed oracle-bonds met by a sixth:
Revealed to be a fraud, I cast it down again and curse its host.

I sit and work dark magic with my fingertips;
I try to squeeze the pain out through a rhyming machine;
I write of you through thirsting terms of blood and death and rot;
I feel I'll make myself feel better, think I'll soften up the blade
I've brought down upon my own fallow frame;
I poemify the darkness but the ink leaks not enough.

I try to like myself so you will like me too:
I have a hard time with this.
Hungrily I hear a ringtone gnawing on my leg;
Chewing on its melodies, I gulp the hope it's maybe you;
It isn't.

Wanting to stop sinking into myself,
I switch on the radio, but the sound of music is replaced
With only a cloud of gaseous rust
Infecting my earlobes, corroding my mind;
The screeching echoes truth.

Harrowed,
Love stalks me in the form of darkness,
Holds out her hand for me and turns her cheek:
But when I move to hold her, when I move to kiss,
I trip and fall such that her shoestrings form a noose around my neck,
And quietly I surrender my last swallow to humiliation.
Given up by her, I give her up,
Meekly fearing love in the form of darkness.

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