I'm in love with a man in granular paint & he washes down the wall that I breathe. In the afternoon when water drips from my fingertips & bamboo sprawling to shield. At midnight he evaporates into vodka haze in a faraway place; I slip into drone to rock it, rock it like a tunnel pierced by canary.
Every night I crave for the gun in my stomach. He does not know about it, for I have held him at life's length. Whenever he comes & sits in the light, I want to butcher myself to pull the trigger. Only then will he see the turmoil I live, in music of shattered time.
'Wall' is a variation of my post 'Retreat' at Meditations in an Emergency.
Now this is awesome. Well you're always awesome. :)
ReplyDeleteI love the easy flow here and the poetry of your prose!
ReplyDeleteTerrific, Nicolette - as I say on FB: music surely, dark music with deep tones, undercurrents.
ReplyDelete