Posts Tagged ‘romantic’

I have a tumour,
I feel it pulsing within my skull,
A neoplasmic fiend,
A frankenstein creation of my own heart,
My cells joining its unholy legion,

I know from whence it came,
I breathed in those cancerous cells,
They breached my lips,
On a vessel of her red lipstick,
Her nightly ritual,

She drew me in,
Like a spider playing a violin,
A trap of an embrace,
A witch in white gown lingerie,
Obsessive oncology,

This amorous disease ravaged my form,
Playing jukebox romance ad infinitum,
My humours sent into spasms,
My virtues turned askew,
Blurred eyes,

I ought to be alone,
Give me a bottle of amber,
My own radiation therapy,
I’m unclear of the prognosis,
But this love is cancer.

Love is music,
Verily indeed,
The most deadly kind of music,
Is certainly a love song,
Vixen words of infatuation,
The soft tones,
And romantic nuances,
Aural nectar and petals,
They’ll give you hope,
A lie we all believe,
A heart-shaped bear trap,
A praying mantis,

Passion strikes,
The trap snaps shut,
A heart exploding,
Within a chest cavity,
Tearing wings off of doves,
As they try to soar,
This is no romance poem,
It’s a plea to hear no more music,
Forgive my subversion,
Love left me a drop topsy-turvy,
A marionette whose strings were cut,
It was all a lie.

I have an unusual companion,
She found her way to my den,
My fascination led me to let her stay,
She made her place in a dark corner,
A neat unassuming spot by a rafter,
Her prescence acts as sedative,
She silently watchs and keeps vigil,

Moths and flies are fodder,
Easily falling into her showy web,
The lamplight draws them in,
Their feeble minds drawn into our ploy,
Artwork becomes artifice,
A cradle becomes a pitfall,
She feasts on bodies as I sip full-bodied amber,

Powerful fangs and a few too many eyes,
Horror to some,
Elegance to me,
A perfect organism,
An imposing specimen,
She’s no Charlotte,
More of a Maleficent.

What went through your mind,
In those terminal moments?
As control was lost,
As the tyres cursed the road,
Before the impact,

Was it your family?
Your soon-to-be tearful spouse?
The little ones left behind?
All those holidays you’ll miss,
That place at the table nobody speaks of,

Or was it that last drink?
The sweetest of the evening,
The one your friends proposed,
The one nobody stopped you gulping,
Your conscience included,

Was it how you’d be if you made it?
The changes you’d make,
You’d get that new job,
Stop seeing that other woman,
Stop getting bags from that bad man,

As the vehicle careens,
It leaves tyre tracks,
Not only of obsidian rubber,
But also of a life of mistakes,
A car wreck of a life.

You wear a mask of innocent sincerity,
A cute yet bewitching visage,
And you wear it well,
But I ask myself,
What lies behind the mask?
There is sugar on your lips to be sure,
And this coalesces with your honeyed words,
A perfume to spur on my infatuation,

Do you intend to use me?
An abusive succubus?
Are you hiding sharks teeth?
Perhaps a venus flytrap?
Our dance has gone on so long,
Our steps grow ever more elaborate,
The mask never shifts,
I can’t tell if it’s truly you,

When I hold you close,
I don’t hear hisses and curses,
Spy no dragon eyes,
The veil may hide only past pains,
It may be a shield rather than a disguise,
But I ask myself,
Will you ever remove it?
Or will this masquerade go on ad infinitum?

Take me away,
Off into the sunset,
Skirting the ivory clouds,
And soaring above the azure carpets below,
Aboard a vessel of aeronautical freedom,

About to take off!

To see distant cities,
To rest on foreign sands and savannahs,
To lay eyes upon pagodas and itzas,
To bear witness,
To love and romance in alien tongues,

What a view!

Less a holiday,
And more a liberation,
Would you take me away?
I long to be elsewhere,
Or will I remain on the runway?

Wheeeee!

Despite my unseemly form,
Writhing with inadequacies,
I was once a romantic at heart,
A passionate bard,
Singing the praises of my loves,
Seeing the light in the dark,

But it wasn’t to last,
One night was a turntable,
You came to me,
A snide succubus,
A bloody mary,
Lashing flames of erotic venom,

You meant only ill,
Your words brought me a stinging sensation,
As if needles pierced my lips,
Sewing my mouth shut,
You rendered me mute,
Voiceless,

After that hellish night,
My tongue shall never again utter romance,
I speak only with these inked words,
I’d need a scalpel,
To return my joy,
A glasgow smile of sorts,

Truth be told though,
It’s not worth severing these threads.

My girl,
You have an inferno about your aura,
You’ve got bridges to burn,
Past errors and trysts to incinerate,
Memories for the pyre,

I watch you set your explosives,
A vessel for your reformation,
Full of rageful gunpowder,
Shrapnel of past insults,
Souls past are just collateral damage,

You look away,
Perhaps to shield your dewy eyes,
Or perhaps to dither,
Does the past still hold dominion?
Do you wish to wallow in it?

Ignite your charge,
Blow the bridge sky high,
Reduce it to ash and nothingness,
Consign it to antiquity,
You’re an engineer of your future now.

I’m a man of words,
But not of talking,
Not of tongues,
If I attempt it,
My throat gains an eerie rasp,

When I behold you,
I try to sweetly exalt,
The words in my mind,
Cradled in lilac and sugar,
Flying on wings of cherubs,

But the words inexplicably contort,
Into an unearthly sound of breath,
Of hellish design,
My tongue rebels,
A shrill auditory talent show,

I appear a banshee,
Spewing screams,
All nerves and sinew,
A nonsensical wheeze,
No longer angelic,

My eyes gaping,
Your answer so desirous,
Yet also apocalyptically alarming,
It could make me rasp,
It could kill me.

Somedays I long to be a contortionist,
A performer,
A sculptor of the body,
Creating the impossible with their form,
A Durvasa pose of my own,

Remold the rubber,
To rearrange oneself,
From this hideous thing,
Into an enticing object,
Improvement through pain,

Dislocate the flaws,
Reset the bones,
Loose joints of a broken soul,
Put this to there,
And that to over yonder,

Part of this cirque du soleil,
I’d be a human anew,
A macabre sculpture,
Something magnitudes more alluring,
But would I be myself?
Or just part of the troupe?