The Hiatus

Your voice calls out that name
Of named age, filthy, decaying!
That name which is beauty itself
As heard from the recesses of my own blood.

But you are not my blood!
Not my flesh, filthy, decaying!
You are beauty itself
Beauty that I pray I am not forsaken.

I know: how can you love
A corpse, filthy, decaying!
Devoid of any beauty
Even that which is from you be found.

So, all I get is this:
A named age, filthy, decaying!
That you pound in my chest with such beauty
That I start shivering with pleasure or pain.

So, all I get is die:
Or breathe a breath, filthy, decaying!
Recycled from the beauty of your nose
While you glutton over his chest.

So, all I am is filthy, decaying:
A name, filthy, decaying!
A love, filthy, decaying!
Filthy through my skin
Decaying from my lips
I hate my name, I hate my name
I hate chasing, I hate my knees
Why can I not just hate you
And be done with this?

~ by daerd on October 21, 2007.