Hello, old Friend

[Whimsical||MUSE;]

Hello, old Friend


We're in a mess this time -- sticky and horrible,
the kind I love best,
even as the contradiction burns hot under my heart.
This filth I know I can never erase,
the filth I see in every corner of my vision:
the blood, the impurity, the stain that covers my soul
and paints it black, as death. No, as sorrow
beyond the bruise.

Will I flicker in the night?
Shifting from red hot to black again,
rising to your touch, to your command,
an arch here,
a fluttering heartbeat there.
But what does it mean?
What does this do but start the dance
we all know so well: the addiction of slick skin,
harsh grating breath? It all ends with ash.

Did I dream of your voice? Or was it the concrete
I felt sprawling beyond human scope? Clash of visuals -- tethered, or wings?
Did I run from your voice?
Or did I swallow the light we cultivated between our careful hands?
We moved too fast,
and yet not fast enough,
and here I am.
Alone again.
Confused again.
In pain, again.

Just another restless lyric bouncing from one
wall to the next.

A nameless verse unable to stand with the others.