II. Les’ Chemins Du Desire (Second & Conclusion of Two Tales)

When I enter a great city at dawn,

each of the hundred thousand, or million

souls contained in steel, or concrete sheathings

beckon with a sound - heartbeats subtle, true.

It's a pale comparison to deceit,

or the many shadows that come from lies;

Enough to form me in the pleasure throes.

To live in the throat of the corridor,

where she fucks hard during the dead of night.

My street starts right where the snowfall begins,

requiring marked footsteps, soft tracings

before bloodspouts can embroider such silk.

Death may often linger upon the dusk,

but has a simple soft side for high noon.

Hard drink has slowed snowsquall, but not the aim;

oddly caused pauseure before I entered

to ponder one star falling from the sky.

Is it a godhead, threading through white specks?

Perhaps an ink-spot catching the soft wick,

or the oily darkness in my blues churning?

Both startle at the disturbance of the door.

I have walked along pathways of desire,

ran sideways upon the walls as well

with a slow squinting of eyes to sight

this loving girl of flame, yet not to burn.

When all choices rot, the decision seems

to murder this girl, bury her in blood;

feed her sickening stench to hungry ooze.

Dilation? I left a him new hole,

formed from all six shots of the revolver.

One to catch the softened, hallow teardrops

or finger fuck to his own heart's content.

To her, I merely took the knifes sharp point

pressed firm with a kiss, stealing the last breath

perhaps reaching forth to call my name.

Waited till the surprised eyebrows slackened,

the questioned smile slid from her naked face,

then took her form to the mud as promised.

Called out for each good citizen to hear!

Shook the golden locks in the swirling air

to show what broken promises will earn.

Walking on, clots drying on my throat, I

dropped her facedown, where none yet dare to move her.