Last night I thought I was in love
Like a good man bent over with strange aches
The wind stirs
Sap and rotting wood
Castellated
Boyhood on my finger
I am no one, with no past, as the music plays
I imagine myself
Rearranging myself like summer in a birdbath
Pouring
A lonely idiom
The dog's paw
Swollen as we dance
My eyes blaze through the hooks that pull me under
The glaring verisimilitude
Spilling like the sunrise in the distance
Pulling the pin on us
I hear a saxophone in the City of the Dead
Made out of synthetic bones
A bleeding symphony
Jutting back and forth like daylight
We are loveless and damned
Like an old, ensouled wreckage
Like the mistakes we made at seventeen
Like November rain
Like the boys you take home, the ones you name
The pretty ones, the dead ones
Foaming in pictures disappearing like the sun
My cherished urchin
My gentleman
Trying to say something witty
A part of me would be lying if I said
I never want this to end
The way you look at me
The way I sink into wistful days
Your breath against my lips
Insisting on death.
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Author:
Jordan Cash (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 10th, 2025 19:54
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
Offline)
Comments1
Mind bending incongruities in this poem. A fun read
That's a really fun word to describe it, I suppose. I think the way a poet reads their work brings a lot of life to it, and I think maybe there's a lot of incongruities within my work, or between my head voice and how I read aloud. I was drunk again last night and mulling over this one, almost in a theatrical way. I'm really inspired by Anne Sexton and I was listening to M.E by Gary Numan over and over and over. Thank you for reading!
You are most welcome
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