words

the lightness, mercurial lobes
caught in webs suspended above all caring
dripping slow and heavy like beads of honey,
like ropes of heroin.

you lack origin,
a rumor, a pale spectre in the fire chasm of my heart,
sundered by separation
i crave your presence,
your exterior,
your velvet reflection in my terrible eyes,
something to grip and sustain
the false nightmares of youth,
the flesh it beckons
through time and space like abstract hauntings.

you move slow in my memory
as if struggling against the gravity
of your consistency,
your pale visage paints these mirrored walls
with vibrancy, your form,
whether false or corporeal
is of no consequence;
there is no difference here.

the strangeness i adore,
you have bloomed in anterior order
deciduous like late winter blossoms,
you alone in this ephemeral conclave
possess within your heart
the blueprint to this madness.

-S.C. Martinez