Waiting for your arrival,
The wanting stars suck in the darkness and expel their soul.
Our corporeal bodies burn in their glow,
Yet I sit and wait for light to bend in the wind.
I wait for them like I wait for you,
A perpetual waiting for you to disengage
From the voices.
Viciously they spit their words of spited reason,
Beckoning you from another shore
Like the devil with a fractured horn.
It took me walking on a cracking road
Breaking in the morning and splitting in the middle
To see the sun we always had.
I see you, divine, wading in the mist,
Your hands curving around your pensive hips.
Bones protruding, speaking,
Muted with great candor.
“Your love, I adore.
Your love I do adore.”
A lovely woman, a waiting man.
A lovely woman, an ailing man.
Let me down gently.
I feel my heart colliding with my heart
Beating in rhythmic tandem with the slow-pulsing hands.
My beating heart, an ailed man.
Avidly patient, I crashed my stalled car in the moonlight.
I depart, soon, from the material world.
Your wailing comes in a different state, in another town.
Your voice carries, but with an altered sound.
My beating heart, a breaking man.
My constricting veins and empty arteries fissure at the weakened places.
Fragmentation has never looked so effortless.
Quickly, it becomes cold.
A door left open? A crack in the seal?
My beating heart, a broken man.