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May 30, 2013

seventy

You came in a dress and I read every line of your body.
You said I looked at you like a game of chess.
Or a puzzle box.
And I said nothing and I loved you, then.
Said my eyes were torture.
Like the barrel of a gun.
Like a cobra.
Swaying sick and silent.
You were right, of course.
Forged in a lifetime of watching through the eyes of others.
Seeking out the pin prick hole in your heart.
And drawing out the honey or venom.
People don’t realise the terrible power.
Of silence, dissociation and eye contact.
The impact they can have.
On getting exactly what you want.

But these things don’t last for long.
I used to watch you some nights, in the haze of the room.
My semen still running down the pillar of your leg.
Semen.
Ha!
Like I was some kind of man.
All those voices in my head.
My little army of blind eyes to be looked through.
Swam about your naked neck and dyed your hair a hundred colours.
A hundred lovers in my bed with their hands about your throat.
Lovers lost to creeping hands.
For Legion, I.
I said forever, never others, no more.
Yeah, well, what of it?
I’m sure I meant it on that day.

So I set about the silent game that we all know how to play.
Drawing drawn from childhood.
Exploding over into gunpoint.
You told me to calm down.
Which was a pretty stupid thing to say.
When you knew the way I loved to pull the knife.
And I threw myself against the wall and slid down it like cast skin.
Looking to fight and die and lay wretched.
Opening my mouth for the dirt in your palm.
Calm, like that first time, all eyes and mute study.
And you looked back at me like I was nothing.
Looked me dead in the eye.
And said nothing.
I hated you more than anything and loved you more than life.
Split entirely along a line I’ve ridden since time was time.
Silent like the fool and the philosopher, all in that second.
The only second that has ever really existed.
Now I understand.
Now I’m always laughing.
I’m a man.
A snake with angel eyes.

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From → Poetry

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