words

she’s a thousand miles an hour,
skin all gloss and sparkle,
cold to touch, her arm surrounds my neck
and pulls me every way,
her fingers trace my cheek,
her lips at my ear
she speaks to me in whispers, never a shout,
quiet, clean, soft as her throat.

she has no sight and i have known her well,
i have shunned her countless times
and it is always this way
through to the nexus of my ragged soul.

without her the world goes dim,
without her it’s all so slow
and i try to overcome the tedium
by outrunning her viral touch,
fast as this car can carry me
i plow through the darkness,
my life, the world within an inch of forever,
tearing the skin from the night
to expose what lies beneath,
my hands grip the steering wheel
until bones creak in protest
and her voice is clear as this evening sky,
whispering from the backseat,
her poison vernacular,
her silver tongue.

she has shotgun motives
and she aims to be the death of me
and oh would i but let her,
allow the embrace of her fiery womb
yet that i have chosen another road
has inspired in her a hate beyond hatred
and now it is to keep me here, burning alive,
to sustain this revolving madness,
to watch me unravel by my own willpower
is her reason for being.

she brings me to my knees,
i don’t want to quit but i want it all to end
and i ask for any but her for surrender,
to finish this terrible drought in my blood,
to enact some dream wherein she is only rumor
and holds no dividends to my undoing
but this is my nightmare,
grinding teeth and darting eyes,
insane, every minute of this,
and every minute of this i can hear her laughter
and her beckoning mantra of lies.

-S.C. Martinez