The Cure
i'm scared of you
the most______ you intimidate me to
silence, to trembling shame.
my hands are lustful, awaiting the contact
of me to you to she he it to nothing.
somewhere, i know, is a body slinked over a
door, struggling to look in the shadowed
room & remain hidden --- to catch me
meeting
feeling
loving you without
even knowing who you are. you are
desire--- i desire nothing though, so you are
a falsity--- a mask over a mask-----
no, you are a state of mind, a confusion,
a war, an eruption of every sense, every
note of music, a spiritual orgasm needing
to be unchained.
i look around, for maybe an answer a
question a reason behind this. my chin
resting on the bones of my knees, i seek to
find the very bit of art that hasn't yet
become art.
to find satisfaction.
to find the cure.
to find where you are ticklish.
stay drawn up, away, on the edge of
time --- the brink of infinity --- the tip
of my tongue.
stay where i need you most but
want you least.
inspiration IS you. nameless, faceless, but with a
body that kills. flesh insults the air around you
& is forgiven by the letting go of the
soul. the heart lays beating against the
ribs begging to be cut loose, pleading for
the veins and arteries to break and for
salvation.
blood, you said.
bleed me, i replied.
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