Post by Whimsical||MUSE; on Sept 27, 2011 9:06:09 GMT -5
Strays
The dog days have already begun -
a momentary lapse in judgment
that turned us around -- is that my tail
caught in your mouth?
Is this our youth run aground?
We snarl but its only an extension of loneliness,
anxiety curls thunder in our chest;
we crack bones as easily as our hearts.
Guttural sounds vibrate
in our bones
and show us our beginning:
friction rubs us raw, our souls
wound too tight to see clear.
We're a mess, dance of flesh and fang,
tufts of fur and rumbling growls.
We grin and it's all teeth
---------------------all death
curdled like milk.
The dog days are ending:
dare we be human again?
Dare we feel anything but visceral pleasure
spiking through our thighs,
our bodies alight: fire runs rampant in our blood.
What a laugh to waste our days with worries!
I'll cut off my skin and start anew
with new flesh and new shape
new death that'll breathe into life
and set me free.
Better an old dog or new tricks?
Should I simply forget, or linger -
caught in smothering, effervescent temptation
as the lotus plant sucks at our dreams,
siphons our desires.
Two doggy skeletons, entwined in poisonous roots;
our longing springing forth another generation
of dog days.
Pant, pant, pant --- and it all begins again.
September 27, 2011
The dog days have already begun -
a momentary lapse in judgment
that turned us around -- is that my tail
caught in your mouth?
Is this our youth run aground?
We snarl but its only an extension of loneliness,
anxiety curls thunder in our chest;
we crack bones as easily as our hearts.
Guttural sounds vibrate
in our bones
and show us our beginning:
friction rubs us raw, our souls
wound too tight to see clear.
We're a mess, dance of flesh and fang,
tufts of fur and rumbling growls.
We grin and it's all teeth
---------------------all death
curdled like milk.
The dog days are ending:
dare we be human again?
Dare we feel anything but visceral pleasure
spiking through our thighs,
our bodies alight: fire runs rampant in our blood.
What a laugh to waste our days with worries!
I'll cut off my skin and start anew
with new flesh and new shape
new death that'll breathe into life
and set me free.
Better an old dog or new tricks?
Should I simply forget, or linger -
caught in smothering, effervescent temptation
as the lotus plant sucks at our dreams,
siphons our desires.
Two doggy skeletons, entwined in poisonous roots;
our longing springing forth another generation
of dog days.
Pant, pant, pant --- and it all begins again.
September 27, 2011