Near Dark Heaven

Shelled, cratered. My structure obliterated.

Hurt hard for flailing. I want you.

A simple thrall, I would wear. Sticky picks do not stick -

I cannot breathe. Quilted within the throes, I ask

What is the time?

The final chamber, unsubtle -

The bends, the crunching bolt,

I have no guts to stay awake with these marble

Doom-eyed clackers.

Oh w***e, oh night, your sequins bleed.

 

Drenched in thud headaches,

Meandering and threadless as television.

Do what you wish to me stalker, elements,

Condign my core, my lovely head.

Leave the beam on if you want -

I offer myself to raven stopped clocks.

Carefully I wash the dishes,

Their dirt crust accessible

Clambering downwards and down -

Put away in neat sections.

 

What are these fragments you offer?

Why the mercury noose? A need, my need traduced to sinter.

I know I am not feeling you, snapped into quarters

As the muted moon, bedevilling my skin

My little body ebbs and flows, chased by metallic faces.

The next strength rushes me to some other place

I do not want to be. The chameleon is tired, craves shade.

Compassion from the cull, ghosted morning, eyes robed,

Lame and clammy I awake,

Groaning into another surplus daylight.

Reviews

[Mickey Hilts]

sure have missed your works but as always a wonderful, enigmatic and imaginative poem, with so many images, thoughts, surreal tangents. Love the final line, I love everything about it to be honest. You say things I don't think anyone else could, you're a genius in so many ways. Love it

[Rosalind Gale]

You are far too kind Mickey - thank you
-x-