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Flesh on Bones
Gordon paving, cachet down the road in search of eyes, these the eyes will that scratch, pulling already so wet is one thinness of cornea from left to right and left to right - alas! honey my darling heart, 'tis on a burgundy taste so the lingual shiver found mine, mine, and mine only the stars cracking on face.
No, not yet to say so. No, not yet to tell you. Thine the arms all plastic on my broken legs, all in one, two, three, five now the dreary drip over the white of the floor, how wet my bones also now - Was I, was I, was I crying the moon on the glass.
Song after song the names in hold of fingertips, stay, stay, stay the azure of the night so the turquoise I find; hers the days will be, press of this my index number on one complete flatness that sojourns here only the green mess from copse thick at the distance - what blue disturbance in me on the green shiver yonder; yet, but, about, all words to let loose, if only thy name off the edge of red mush of mine the human matter wetting the space of this room now.
Did I have you? Do I have you?
Come away then. Weigh me down heavier than the creamy closure of this my lids' kiss nightly - some sadness some lament awaits. Warm and warmer my hands now, do I think of the hour matutinal in this the lapse of when tansmutes the vermillion shade of the rorqual skin - on every doorstep not the hue found, but this the color blue, this the blue color.
White flesh over the iron mass, the hands and limbs keeping the elbows atop the plastic for how my hands almost fall on the floor before do the knees, afore am I on my knees, afore can the hands touch the ground for am I on my knees now.
Harbinger of our doom,
Hurtling through space,
The asteroid is here too soon.
Hello these the nights pulling at the nakedness of the city into seascape of mine the hard sobriety, in my eyes oh how I keep still, how I keep still on my hands also, but the squelch, squelch, slip of the feet under the bed now and then.
Mine not anymore, yours not anymore. Someone else's a realm of hard flesh, weak not hers the composition - all power to the melancholy.
Going away, moving away slowly and slowly crawl my hands up on the body brown so I leave all lines white in seepage - ramifying branches all over, corks into cambrium dead, crusts spitting dryness on me so is my face made in lines haphazard of the rising damp up the brown flesh.
Am I, am I, am I thinking now, coming on drags of toenails, home to you.
Talk to me of the flaws again.
What not the word to begin with, but the hands, but the legs, up and down and up and down my nape until is this the flesh again all about the lattice screaming terror into double helix of knots.
Tell me of one now. When on hand only a singular to call, hold me tight, too tight so art bones pushing back into me.
Talk to me so, talk to me hence, will I on bare feet be home to you darling, beyond expanse, beyond me, me, I say beyond me. Talk to me thus how dots will also join then, on paint brush's strokes will the fingertips in paint drip, drip, drip isohyet line. I will cry the same as you. Drown will You and I in all wetness of our human matter -
why mine the smear of mauve, laurel lilac, pink patch, vermillion purple, violet water, this the violet watercolor at your doorstep then? All this spillage of colors so many right where ceases the room to stay, stay, stay, so I will be.
Now the red fabric on my volume white, yet not so oh my sweetness in the heart, art thee keeping the room here and there in me. Did you stay, oh won't thou stay hither and thither in me? Some subtlety to let out, will I squeeze the white outside, having the volume visceral to me in primordial black of shadows from my neighbor's concrete.
Ground, ground, ground on my feet, how I pull the sky down on me beyond the eclipse on heads - here my love, I felt shiver in me the bones and tissues of a child, she my mother somewhere lost in me.
White and black, something am I seeking to tell for the last, oh my honeydew, what else to say that I know I have you in black and white. She, hers the utterance speaking of one orifice in thinness of air inside the human body so you pour out of me in every breath - this the way I am losing you. Am I, am I, am I thus losing you?
By the wayside of empty roads, on satin glaze on the bitumen in one lonely night of some familiar Winter, knew my heart the November gale right away, knows my heart the November sunsets right away, will know my heart the November midnights right here.
Yet the walk - step, step, step the squelch in sound instead.
I see, I see hers the husband found my way back in lieu; his the feet on stones of a lonely night, mine running cold on brown mud. Playing, oh how we played with the toenails screeching the paving out of all this grey matter.
Human sojourn, human stay, here my complexity completes on hers the stay.
His the curlicue where is the door in the only patch in steel skin, oh how he saw her stay back.
Behind door after door, oh how I see of the doors close on his, hers the palms spreading over mine, until door after door left ajar, his the stillness of the silhouette on marmoreal tiling, hers the hues all purple blue like the window pulled into reflection on wet floors of such damp atmosphere.
I see, his the hands on the latch, hers the hands holding me door after door I see.
© Ananya
No, not yet to say so. No, not yet to tell you. Thine the arms all plastic on my broken legs, all in one, two, three, five now the dreary drip over the white of the floor, how wet my bones also now - Was I, was I, was I crying the moon on the glass.
Song after song the names in hold of fingertips, stay, stay, stay the azure of the night so the turquoise I find; hers the days will be, press of this my index number on one complete flatness that sojourns here only the green mess from copse thick at the distance - what blue disturbance in me on the green shiver yonder; yet, but, about, all words to let loose, if only thy name off the edge of red mush of mine the human matter wetting the space of this room now.
Did I have you? Do I have you?
Come away then. Weigh me down heavier than the creamy closure of this my lids' kiss nightly - some sadness some lament awaits. Warm and warmer my hands now, do I think of the hour matutinal in this the lapse of when tansmutes the vermillion shade of the rorqual skin - on every doorstep not the hue found, but this the color blue, this the blue color.
White flesh over the iron mass, the hands and limbs keeping the elbows atop the plastic for how my hands almost fall on the floor before do the knees, afore am I on my knees, afore can the hands touch the ground for am I on my knees now.
Harbinger of our doom,
Hurtling through space,
The asteroid is here too soon.
Hello these the nights pulling at the nakedness of the city into seascape of mine the hard sobriety, in my eyes oh how I keep still, how I keep still on my hands also, but the squelch, squelch, slip of the feet under the bed now and then.
Mine not anymore, yours not anymore. Someone else's a realm of hard flesh, weak not hers the composition - all power to the melancholy.
Going away, moving away slowly and slowly crawl my hands up on the body brown so I leave all lines white in seepage - ramifying branches all over, corks into cambrium dead, crusts spitting dryness on me so is my face made in lines haphazard of the rising damp up the brown flesh.
Am I, am I, am I thinking now, coming on drags of toenails, home to you.
Talk to me of the flaws again.
What not the word to begin with, but the hands, but the legs, up and down and up and down my nape until is this the flesh again all about the lattice screaming terror into double helix of knots.
Tell me of one now. When on hand only a singular to call, hold me tight, too tight so art bones pushing back into me.
Talk to me so, talk to me hence, will I on bare feet be home to you darling, beyond expanse, beyond me, me, I say beyond me. Talk to me thus how dots will also join then, on paint brush's strokes will the fingertips in paint drip, drip, drip isohyet line. I will cry the same as you. Drown will You and I in all wetness of our human matter -
why mine the smear of mauve, laurel lilac, pink patch, vermillion purple, violet water, this the violet watercolor at your doorstep then? All this spillage of colors so many right where ceases the room to stay, stay, stay, so I will be.
Now the red fabric on my volume white, yet not so oh my sweetness in the heart, art thee keeping the room here and there in me. Did you stay, oh won't thou stay hither and thither in me? Some subtlety to let out, will I squeeze the white outside, having the volume visceral to me in primordial black of shadows from my neighbor's concrete.
Ground, ground, ground on my feet, how I pull the sky down on me beyond the eclipse on heads - here my love, I felt shiver in me the bones and tissues of a child, she my mother somewhere lost in me.
White and black, something am I seeking to tell for the last, oh my honeydew, what else to say that I know I have you in black and white. She, hers the utterance speaking of one orifice in thinness of air inside the human body so you pour out of me in every breath - this the way I am losing you. Am I, am I, am I thus losing you?
By the wayside of empty roads, on satin glaze on the bitumen in one lonely night of some familiar Winter, knew my heart the November gale right away, knows my heart the November sunsets right away, will know my heart the November midnights right here.
Yet the walk - step, step, step the squelch in sound instead.
I see, I see hers the husband found my way back in lieu; his the feet on stones of a lonely night, mine running cold on brown mud. Playing, oh how we played with the toenails screeching the paving out of all this grey matter.
Human sojourn, human stay, here my complexity completes on hers the stay.
His the curlicue where is the door in the only patch in steel skin, oh how he saw her stay back.
Behind door after door, oh how I see of the doors close on his, hers the palms spreading over mine, until door after door left ajar, his the stillness of the silhouette on marmoreal tiling, hers the hues all purple blue like the window pulled into reflection on wet floors of such damp atmosphere.
I see, his the hands on the latch, hers the hands holding me door after door I see.
© Ananya
