Monday’s Poetry

1.

In, out
Up, down

Leaning, waning, creaking.
Black mold finds its way into the most peculiar of places:

You are my abandoned home, my break-down, my remorse.

Filled with regret I walk your steps;
I feel your walls peeling.

In, out
Up, down

Wallowing, doubting, crying.
My heart is at the crux of your fireplace – in the crevice of your closet. I breath in your asbestos, I drink in your odor.

My abandoned home, my solitude.

20130715-125739.jpg

2.

Hanging

Hanging in the balance-beams I am waiting.

Hanging arm, drifting leg…

One step and I’m down – one step and I’m up.

Hanging in the balance-beams I am wondering.

My mind is on a trip.
My thoughts are trailing down a path of death and desire.

Death and desire.
Death and desire.

One swings up, one swings down…

This dance of danger, politely enticing.

I am hanging in the balance-beams;
I am in the crevice, that reproachable, claustrophobic space.
I am choking under the weight of desire,
Soaring beneath the wings of death.

Hanging in the balance-beams I am waiting.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s