sunday night must be a disappointment.
all faces. i want to say that nothing will satisfy me
like glowing on a dark night like that
like all the suns in the universe were burning inside my skin
and putting tingly sensations through my fingertips
but are they enough, these embers
like cigarette ends, that glow once and then expire?
or will they too sink and dissolve in the muddy puddle that is Life
No (I proclaim)
they are the charred ends of endeavour
although it's better to be pockmarked with
the craters of cigarette burns than to be
protected by Venus's cloudy atmos
that combusts these little flames before they become scars on the soul
I am tired. MY light is almost out,
damp, damp, damp! Like a used handkerchief
or a bath-towel. I want nothing more than rest and my Final Evaporation.
but I want to say
as an ember falling on a sunday night
that I wish there were more suns
adam