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January

Naked breezes blow strong on warm fleshy autumn bodies
Hanging upside down from the cracks of your statement.
Rapunzell underneath the window of her secret room
Where golden locks fly in the unfamiliar night.

Circean lover calls for prophylactic prophecies
I wish I could make a difference in the change of your seasons.
A ribbon war begun in your bedroom ends
In streets flowing with whiskey rives into my open mouth.

Spherical magistrates explode by foggy dawn
And I haven't come any closer to figuring out
The secret of your pubescent innocence
Radiating in pre-sun behemoth nightmare.

Halogen radiation towers glow around your face
I'm stuck in cracked basement filler
Using my words like weapons and hoping
I could catch your circadian rhythm.

Melancholy paranoia undermines my self-restraint
I take a bite of the apple of your eye
Slither closer on my belly
To feed you with my unwashed supplications.

The bandits have left Main Street, USA
Raided the saloons and brothels
Left only the resentment of housewives
And junkies to console me.

A schizophrenic episode resolves itself
With your majestic blanket falling to observe
The holiday of my deliverance
And the insolubility of your decadence.

Submitted: Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, August 14, 2013


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Comments about this poem (Dusk (M.M.) by Tyler Wilcox )

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  • Gajanan Mishra (8/13/2013 8:55:00 PM)

    holidays of my deliverance, good write, thanks.

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