we are sick

Through rusty wires to my heart
Through rotten backyard to my spine
Through sticky bartop to my brain
Through swollen branches to my cheeks
Through musty sewage to my eyes
Through morbid air to my skin
Through dusty brick walls to my nose
Through drunken piano to my soul
Transmission of your fears
Flowing slowly across shivering pavement
Blurted rapidly across the trembling dusk
Transmission of your ravings
Advancing viscidly across the pillow
Attacking helplessly across my temples

Looking at Abysmal whirlpools echoing with muted sheiks that are your eyes
And Rippling effluent breathing with decayed dreams that are your lips
The sense of approaching catastrophe is growing on me
And in this catastrophe I’ll be the collateral damage, but I don’t care
My thoughts are getting greasy
My tongue is getting drier
My logic is struggling in convulsions
I pity myself shamelessly
I pity you secretly
Pitiful but still in awe of crepuscular suspense
In awe of your opening wounds
In awe of creeping despair swathing my throbbing nerves

Can you stop this sick agonizing mind flow?
It cripples up my thighs with a restless spider’s legs
I try to start crying but my eyelids are full of sand
I try to cough but my lungs regurgitate but a crepitation

I’m drowning in your swinging shadow
Drowning in your hypnotizing pain
Drowning in this late night joyride of a conversation
Drowning in your tranquil vibrating arms
Drowning in my own reflection flickering in the glass of your wristwatch
Burying my head in a concrete wall that towers around your heart (how do you wear this monumental tower on your sleeve?)
Burying my agitation in your scarred palms
Your scarred palms and your scarred perception

My sanity is slipping away
Giving way to extreme consciousness
My drunkenness is my sobriety
My sobriety is my shelter
My shelter is my place of execution
My place of execution is my cradle
My cradle is in your phantasmagoric presence
Your presence is both disturbing and ensuring

We are nothing more than one blurry shadow dancing on the wall in candlelight
We’ll be dancing this sick dance on the edge of sanity and romance until the candle burns out