funny only the red ones are contagious
(my skin turns red)
you throw diamonds in the air and laugh when it's outrageous
(funny how I disagree)
I never meant to seem so crazy but these nightmares abound and I like the way we flirt,
death and me, :
I like the way you return to me:
not robed-black like everyone supposes but seductive and luring into a tempting pain
what does one do with such symptoms,
how does one resist such allure?
(funny how I consult my hostage-taker)
there are dreams filling me like a pregnant balloon from the inside but they too are empty and closer to nightmares.
full of empty, no-weight negativity and unexplained black space.
my heart through my stomach crumbles and I'm left with the overwhelming sensitivity that spills out of my body like
into the garden of roses which you grew to,
create confusion in mind.
I secretly imagine our fortress,
smile slightly and wipe tears when they're still dry
what of the path which you frequent so casually?
what of the reminder of our proximity?
it is the middle of the night and I feel too much from everyone else and all I feel from me is:
(as a noun, not as an adjective missing its partner)
though, on second thought, perhaps that is the best description:
I'm an adjective missing my noun.
what of this paradoxical calligraphy?
of these inked letters which form mostly coherent yet probably uninformative, messy lines?
have I made my dependency on our unfortunate circumstance clear?
I dance with you on a floor made of knives and think them roses!