Sycamore Tree

Laughing and crying like we're rivers shapeshifting. Waters rise and bliss permeates through our muddy earth. Songs we never speak about. Blistered feet surrender to the red night, the cesspool of victorious blood. Achoo. Gesundheit. Your wanted soul is the offspring of beauty and art. Somewhere glistening. You scratch the itch and wonder why your head is a tarot. A body that can never relax, with a thorn in my side, with a chafe in that bad urethra. Smile and look away. Sleep through the day and stay up late. You roll the dice and look at your reflection in some shiny and new polished mirror, but your habits are ghosts and you can't understand your eyes. Pale blue and steel. They hold the lost pain of a careless youth. Twisted fate. Everyone sleeps while I ponder, shrouded by an anomaly of guilt. O' sleepy overdose. O' sleepy head. The present did not come with a guaranteed bow, and the past came with no ribbon. Just a baby crying with a desert mouth, fixed into an orchid, cordate. Nothing but blue electric stasis. Midnight television screen, no doctor's note or sympathy. I am lost in my dreams, this theory of black swan events. The apples in this house always turn sour. Magic spells do no work here. 

Corrected leather puckers but does not compensate. Take the sap and make me alcohol, take the nectar and make me honey. Wonderful man. I am your candyfloss boy. I taste like strawberries in the summer and I will be quiet when you insist. In my allotment of need, I find alleviation in the temporary candlelight, the thought that tomorrow's harvest is promised to be ruby and golden. Rupture accelerates to the pleasure spot. In stupefied acrimony I see a man coming of age. He told me his secrets under the dark light of sky, broken yolk separating the albumen. Nameless enzyme. The maggot that has schlepped the burden of time, placidly, on a pilgrimage to pray, gathers with one thousand dreams carrying me through the night. So I am at ease. At least my hands feel weightless. The night is dreamy and forgotten. Viagra, Valium, the Suicide Pill. Satin will cull to the cladding. Buildings on fire. I seen the phoenix rising from the ashes, rising from smooth rising water, and I smiled, looking away. Hanging onto every word you say. I move to music and eat books and invite strange men into my house, hoping and wishing the bells will remember my name. I hope they toll at midnight with a winning smile. I grip my hand around my dick, moaning and stiff but my body is liquid. I watch them fuck each other, in that passionate storm of love, conjoined by the hips in deep breaths. The things I say is what I don't really mean. Tangled in ephemeral hallucinations. I will always remember you, how I wanted to protect you from this cruel world. Soft gaze, gentle haze, I place soft kisses on his lips. Smoking cactus. I feel the heat on my spine, falling from cloud vapour. Flowers on my chest. A waterfall of emotions pouring from the heart. Bleeding in this fever.