Fire burns in my veins,
I can not stop the heat from growing,
swelling, I am almost bursting.
The chattering never stops.
And it burns me, their eyes.
I want your peace, I want your silence.
Nothing quenches me
quite like diving into to cold wet cavities,
pushing fevered flesh into
nothing.
You, you are my crisp fall evening,
my deep-lake summer days,
like falling
into an abyss, so cool and black
that my ears are ringing from the sound
of you welcoming me
into the ice womb.
Enclose me in your arms
and love me,
so accepting,
never talking
or plotting, just
observing.
I've found that look once before
in the glassy eyes of junkies.
The truth lies in a dead mind
where all there is, is sweet, sweet
nothing.
An inspired and provocative angle that takes the sting out of death's tail and leaves the reader reeling on the sublime images like a glassy-eyed junkie - perfect poetry. :)