(untitled)
The city drifts
Into the night
And slumber.
Opaque lights
and slowly
turns to magenta
of my blood
and dark,
until only shadows
linger.
I grope within
Myself
And reverie
Reveals nothing
Of last nights
Kiss
Against the bare,
Exultation
Holding back self
Against the shrivelling
Heat of bodies
With feverish
Rhythm
In tune
To the murmuring
Of unintelligible
Sounding of my own
Drums beating
In my brains,
That offers
But a vague
Notion
Interlaced
with words
of different forms.
This night is just
Like the other nights,
Cold, bleak
And dry from its
Own emptiness
And bed of dreams
Suffocated with air
Of nowhere
Until eternal remoteness
One thing I'm glad
Is tonight
I do exist
Like the myriad
Of souls
Wandering and wondering
Where these all began
and where
will it all lead to.
Or do I have
To feel sorry,
For I, too,
Don't know
Where the sun rises
And rest
From its journey
In this vastness
And nothing.
This wonderful
Neon-coloured madness
Of the earth
Where shadows
Wear masks and sceptre
Or weapon and possess
All bounds in its bosom
Until this kingdom come.
I wonder
Where the sleepers go
To journey
On this infancy of being
Or being nothing.
Trying to put words
Together and weave the dream
Trying to decipher
Each clashing sound
Each cry
Each waving of a helpless
Un-skinned hand
And hope
To come to this
Resurrection
Fallen from grace
And drown itself in its
Thousand and one-self
The night is still
The night is where
My restless soul wander
For it was denied repose
In its maternal womb
To dream.
But this night will
Not just be a night
Of many dreams forlorn
In this emptiness
And to remember.
I will gently
Drift off
To this sea of thoughts
And find solace in dream
Of dreams