Scriptor Press - The ElectroLounge
Scriptor Press - The ElectroLounge
Scriptor Press - The ElectroLounge
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54<br />
xi. Home<br />
Again throbbing absence, a flu of want.<br />
A faith weighted with faint joys & bending plaints.<br />
Wishes nurture, & constrain. Old paths obscure.<br />
My pen grabs me & hurries through clouds<br />
of thicking human idiocies.<br />
I love you: I am breaking.<br />
***<br />
xii. Insurrection<br />
My world empties. Yours fills. Smell the poison.<br />
My life corrodes. Yours glares. Lies upon lies.<br />
My hands flail. Yours busy with baubles. Crumble, resist.<br />
My body aches & presses. Yours silent, a doll. Our want still scirocco.<br />
My heart insurrects. Yours shrieks in the dark. Smother, breathe.<br />
A new world still murmurs. You’re still dreaming my face. Love’s deepest treasure.<br />
***<br />
<strong>The</strong> Cenacle / 54 / April 2005