And here in this windless hole, I sit and wonder where I had left that which mattered most to me under the starlit fields of Montreal. I crave it and yet wish to God that I had never been the man who held you close to me. Everything I had in my arms in the parking lot outside of that hotel dash turned dash residence. A messy room and a crowded cafeteria. A hotel dash turned dash residence dash turning dash memory. And here in this wonderless *******, in this airtight cabin of past fantasy’s design, the rent keeps piling up and oh the dishes are due. Half-finished paperback classics flapjacked on top of each other in this white shirt no sweat world with the sleeves rolled up. This pill form city with all the charm and magic of an after dinner mint. Take a walk with me, let me tell you about this dream I had.
It had wine
and white sheets and tables.
Paintings that I knew
but did not recognise,
gasping under the grip
of yellowing wallpaper with pink flowers.
It was hell,
hell I tell you.
waking up with fever thinking I was portuguese and that there were three of me
Remembering when you sat me down,
and told me who I was in all of
two paragraphs- underline this underline that.
Black and red LEDs in full contrast of the room turning real again.
All I remember is you.

No, it isn't cardiac arrhythmia
My muscles are purring in anticipation
Of the hunt, the chase, the ****.
Sure, I've had my fill
But I've hardly had any fun yet.

I've only drawn but a drop of blood
Nobody yet expects a flood
So build your ark, and count to three
What I make,is going to be history.

I'll flick my tail, and arch my back
Strength maybe, but it's not skill I lack
It's restraint.

Once I hear that fateful snap
A hapless creature you shall be
Not just now
For all of eternity.

Yes, Sana'a is the capital of Yemen
But I shall capitalize on your sorrow
You'll have so much, won't need to borrow
Harrowed yet?

So brush your crooked fingers through your greasy hair
And tell your sympathetic nervous system
That sympathy is about the last thing
You'll get from me.

Your eyes were vacant, hollow
Sallow - the colour of your putrid heart
Art is only art when someone doesn't get it.

To be quite candid, I never did get you
Your lying fumes made my alveoli suffer
You tried to buffer your mistakes

But in vain...

The scar on your left ear
Caused by the fear of being overshadowed
Widowed by the loss of your sister
But hey, mister, don't you dare look me in the eye.

Because I am the second primary on a falcon's right wing
I am the initial temperature drop of winter
No hunter can possess the desire to possess my desire.

My lilac fur of disdain scalds the corneas of my opposition
My partially sheathed claws sharpened on the skulls of my deficiencies
Lie waiting, famished
Polished by your lies , greed & misery
Fissures of my hidden deception
In a glass tumbler
Tempting green apple and cinnamon.

So now, stuck on top of a pine tree
You begin your cautious decent
To the seemingly clear coast below
Roasted almonds and marshmallows
And I
Hiding the shadows themselves
Will extend my scaly grasp
Onto your left tibia.

Oh ****.
Oh no.
I've slipped into a slippery dance with all of the things I've always feared, and all of the things I'll never know,
and I can't tell anymore if it's joy or sadness that causes all these tears,
but it hardly makes a difference, so long as I can still feel this:
a precious presence in the bones;
a song sung by the body that makes me feel not so alone.

I'd kiss you on the forehead.
I'll kiss both of your eyes.
Remembering to feel alive, at least until we one day die.

If I could manipulate time, then I'd put us both in the same instant,
to breath shared air,
if only for a minute.

Thin walls.
Ear plugs.
Windows.

Whatever, do what you gotta.

Shut it out or let it in.
Bring on the feast:
Let the games begin.

You came to me inside my head
The walls were painted cherry red
Which word was it, that I had said
That to my hatred, blindly led?

You sat there, admiring the waves
The ocean blue, and then the caves
Best friends, you said, lies left at raves
A silent raven, part of Aves.

My heart was finely spun with starch
Into my soul, your head did march
Your silky blonde hair, slightly parched
For feel of my digits, bent and arched.