I ran away from the big city
it called me back
with its melancholy allure and wrinkled cigarette mouth
smelling of aniseed and stale semen
I saw myself walking among the throng still
bright cheeked, slapped by vigor, supple limbed
the murmur of a million souls touching shoulders
rubbing their lives, increment by increment, to fine dust
a mutual hunger lain on them, like wet fur coat
I could see myself opening the door to my old apartment
the ghosts of all who tried before me, fading into dry linoleum
as the newcomers vanquished the past
painting over, believing sincerely such things could ever be lost
building hipster palaces over former squalor and dolor
I saw the raisin ghosts set loose in busy streets
relieved not to have to haunt their former faces
tarred air yellowed with their lifeless breath
a collective orgy of dead and neonate
vying for glory against fetid slop of histories
stinking, clamant body of evidence
pouring its next cocktail of sloe gin and hemlock.
I ran away from the big city
before the needle took me, before the weight of a stranger
breaking into my soul, became a rhythm
before empty eyes proclaiming love, when they should have said a fuck
tore my petrichor innards and hung them, garters for crows
in the slag heap of detritus and violated mornings
I saw myself there; through steamy windows, practicing ways to die
held up by gaffers tape and pins that continually chaffed the breakage
still yoked to the cities dissolute caress
like a green foal will defy the bridle until
its bite is greater and it buckles
until time devours instinct
and we forget completely
the smell of chlorophyll
Oh, yes, the allure of an embrace both exotically exciting and numbingly deathly – so beautifully captured
This is some awesome writing! Love it!
coming from you my friend- who knows poetry – this sits as a happy moment in my soul – thank you – so much
You are very welcome! Keep writing 😌
Such marvelously well-penned imagery you’ve created here Candice. I could see and smell and hear it all.
So well evoked sordid hold