Every night there is a gentle click in the air As I slide open the door to my spine To oil and grease and fix This old machine That shuffles within me as I sleep Oh how you make me weep Upon this unmade bed In the shadow of headlights and spotlights and beams You blind me With the purple of your silence While I shake again In a nest of orange sighs I breathe them in I taste them Horribly terribly sweet They taste of dry orange-peels Half-heartedly clinging to their zest They spread lazily across my tongue Now salty Now crust And fall onto a pillow drenched in sweat And melt away As simply as the wax from under my eyes I watch myself from behind cold windows As pools and pools form upon my skin Oh how I grow so sickly thin Whispers trace vermillion lips As the sailor-boy sobs softly and sips Violet wine from the corners of my eyes Yes, i am here And No, i am not I am here to breathe and Far far away to cry To weep And to weep And to endlessly weep away The liquid orange from my belly The sailor-boy cannot drink it For it gives his forehead a terrible ache I fold to vomit But it does not come The orange swirls over and over as if He churns it with his finger each night
Now I am drenched
Now your forehead is blazing
And nothing is new
And nothing has changed
click
~jhinuk