Sunday, August 24, 2008

Leaves

I woke up with a cold shiver, with a lump of heaviness on my left forehead like an ovarian cyst, thick and bulbous, it tortured me, my mouth was full of yellow bile, gelatinous, sticking to my tongue like dye to tanned leather, an orgasm of nausea engulfed me, rising up from deep inside, lingering around my throat, like coiled snakes on Medusas head, i wanted to defecate first, i wanted to drink a bottle of warm saline water so i could cleanse my rotting innards,  drink and purge.

I vomited twice, first, just water, while i kept fingering my navel as if to exorcise the daemons wrangled inside my stomach,  the putrid taste stuck to my mouth, i tried rinsing its acidic betrayal which made my teeth brittle, i tried regurgitating my bowels, my intestines, i wanted it all out, all the blood, bile and gore, all the horror of the night. A vomited a third time, it was thick bile, yellow and putrid, it fell into the W/C,  drowning slowly into the watery grave, leaving a trail, i flushed it before the image could get ensconced in my memory, i wanted to erase the night itself. 

I lay in bed, a cold shiver, sweat breaking up on my forehead, a chilly spine, my hands searched feverishly for a sheet to cover myself while my eyes were delirious, too weak to open.

I felt better in the afternoon, I waited for dusk, I waited for the dark hour before the street lights came on so I could walk on my balcony, alone, unnoticed, unwatched, but watching, become only eyes, sans my body, to draw in every whim of the evening, the teenage girl teasing the boy who listens to KoRn, the girl in her skirt, an invitation into the abyss , disembodied from the rest of her. 

where can I buy one without the need for mutual acceptance and the grotesque pleasentries?

 I wanted to look west the yon,  the vast bleeding colours of a dream which was the sun,  it blushed a shameless want in ovulating red. I saw the sad silhoutte of the trees, their leaves like spines sprung out from everywhere,  like a repeating geometry, they clung to trees like pathetic lovers who seek to hinge themselves on people permanently, like some cold mathematical equation they spread all across the branches, an algorithm, like the logic of a soap opera, behind the gloss of the leaves, the velvet of the flowers, there was an equation, like a dull classroom with walls bleeding from the rainwater and a teacher teaching fourier transforms.

There was silence, the leaves swayed in the gentle breeze of the evening, a beautiful disguise, a veiled romance, a gimmick. I walked over to the money plant on my balcony, i let my fingers gently caress the shiny gloss of the leaves, like taut youthful skin of pubescence, i plucked out one large leaf, and bit into it, it was bitter, it bled and died, i flung it down, it fell helicoptering, twisting and turning on two axes, saving energy and momentum, the ground swallowed it, it was gone.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Stuck-at-O

Stuck-at-O

full throated cancer of statutory lies
smacked slender on chapped lips
white coffins we are blessed to bury
carbon black bonds carbon black
nudged ashen dreams of benzene flights
in trayed conformity or ethereal abyss

sepia sachets of my bosomed memory
spoons pout to stir a saccharine sentiment
rag-a-muffins to nibble in a starbuck clink
caramel palms tucked under kissing knees
on a crosshatch curb busy on a shopping spree
plugged umbilical a mothers zygote
your womb loves my coffee death

oozing jazz on mussed sheet
shards of ageing merlot bleed
smudged orgasm quivers on an uncomfortable bed
scent of your oily nightmare hides under prurient velvet
shameless towels gossip in a folded embrace
smothered curtains will breathe again

everything you touched, everything, still burns.