words

my tongue burns acrid
from nicotine onslaught
and my chest heaves
and swells and retreats
and my lips burn
as the filter approaches zero,
well beyond midnight
i sit with no company
other than my own perilous
thoughts and ideations,
each moment another note
from this orchestra of soundless wonder.

i can feel the hour struggle
against the nature of its concept,
i roll reverse
through every mundane moment of the day
and nothing is gained again
and the curious madness
settles in, a violin heartbeat
stretching thin the hair strings
of symphonied posture,
upright nearly nude
the moonlight quakes
upon my skin
like a pale eyed assailant
with needle teeth
and murder in its heart.

i retreat further
and prescription friendship
is now so dear,
i watch the abstract debt
fall deeper
and the soul repossession
come nearer,
i listen quietly to the dark
and its memory of my beautiful counterpart,
the television departs
and the lights have gone out
and the ashtray goes to sleep
and i become the night.

-S.C. Martinez