Going back there:

Like steam; beads down glass,

Crushed, small breathing,

Bricked against the cold of ice.

Bare shivers climb–

Dying of exposure–

Locked out of home,

Seeking payphone forgiveness.

Biting back reasons,

Not to regret.

Originally: spun, wayward,

On a slicing wire through time,

Chance, risk;

Struggling to the premises, fading.

Brisk, bone-deep shakes,

Drive the pursuit of goals.

Aspiring eyes, welled, trying,

Daunted by respect for want.

Fooled for love-like states–

Stealing irresponsible moments,

To taste her heated moans,

Cast in binding-bliss–

Dry, waterless roots of resent, choking.

A purpose lost through trial,

Ignorant and capsized–

Chemically wooed,

Dizzy, misguided synapses–

Firing belligerently.

Romanced for rot,

Eating its sweet succulents.

Infectious pus spewing,

Fetid, mashed, intestinal wastes,

Swallowing the bitter-bile, thumping–

Hot blood,

Churning heart irregularly–

Throbbing in outrage,

Burnt by promise.

Married in, for, by… disgust.

Soulless, slipping into alleys–

Emptied through waste-ways,

Stained, parcels left alone in rooms,

Possessions strewn with disregard.

The sallow, bleeding papered-walls,

Spattered with hateful stains,

Strike a blow across my face.

Breaking the world, for her.

Down.

Things fell far from recollection.

Her sex viperous, uncoiled.

Still a yearning somewhere primal,

In unrequited hardness–

Driving wild, weedy undesired growth,

Poisoned by the circumstance.

Surrendering lifelessly,

To ever-aching thrusts–

Of regurgitated desires.

Then,

Eyes to not forget:

Burrowing with unspoken–

Sensual keenness, open, desperately–

Acknowledging a presence inside–

Releasing into her private warmth,

Grasping sweat-soaked touches–

Consumed by sensation,

Trusting.

Absolved of secrets,

Twisted…

After, bloated disregard,

Conscious of scattered lusts–

Responsible for my own want,

Tasked by a new stare,

Vexed, glowering with spat-out pity–

A face of words,

A ring thrown on the floor.

Coughing on bitter soil-dust,

In realization as moments blur–

Squandered days it seems…

Mounting, uneven scores,

Towards the future, now smeared,

Stranded silence.

Nobly striving–

For a dim yesterday.

The torpor-dreams of corpses,

Swamped, in the peat-murk of decay,

Sinking into the now.

Abandoned.

Sought for no longer,

Waiting–

Stubbornly surrendering,

To a rescue.