shots #8 blood; a poem of love [is a beast of many splendours]an empty tomb; a buried room; a golden witch with a burning itch undefined depths of subconscious fires, peculiar agents @ midnight a small patch of sky - fading in - paint it red; burning out - bring return no return - the inbetween feeding back [whyte] into itself an irregular loop from yr hands to my face; my hands to yr neck venomous lips bursting into flames - teeth; claws; eyes deadlocked; painted yr name in blood across my chest painted the names of every night we destroyed w. too much of everything pushing empty shopping-carts into the false dawn of a neon jungle swept up by rush hour mourning; like chameleons pressed against the concrete; dis-appear/ing like vampiric mists in a cloud of exhaust fumes a clamour of voices - the bright lights - draining us; to the very last drop
outside the perimeter
shot into space - crystaline lament
dancing naked in the pale moonlight; in radioactive rain hypnotic mushrooms in the ruins of the old mausoleum; served by the woman of purple mists and x-ray eyes zooming in/out through the concrete walls breaking & entering the dreams of lovers, sprinkling opiates on their faces soft whispers through schizophrenic rooms; outside
outside the perimeter
blood; becomes a poem of love between us; shared in a brief lapse of that which is not & that which is fingertips; sharp as scalpels; folie à deux; this is the out/side/in coherent currencies of famous last words; dying breaths; not really words - are they between us; in the betweens of us back in the room of dying piss a stench of death as dawn cruelly rapes the immaculate night; time & time again remorseless angels the holy ghost of alice in wonderbra - a taste of whips and chains - blood; brings return no; return only feedback; loops of lust and dark cravings
love is a beast of many splendours
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nicklas ekström
Läst 527 gånger Publicerad 2008-05-30 23:39 |
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