tsunamisurf

the harsh orange lights and scarred concrete floor
the echo of falling feet shuffling to and from
the dark rectangular passenger-packed trains screeching to a rest
overworked beasts of burden returning home with their heavy loads.
I see it without looking
billboards and posters slowly sliding off the walls
thoughts crawl through the mud

She is leaving.

I say it over and over to the cadence beating in my head,
the rhythm of my marching feet pulling me away,
The world is dense, a thick liquid, the details of it all dripping down and bleeding into each other like smooth melted wax.

Tepid, warm and sweet
perfect, tender, affectionate.
her hair, chestnut colored, thick, full. It separates between my fingers into hundreds of strands: each one a piece of her, strands in a rope woven together
I cling to to keep from drowning.

My eyes slam shut,
But I know it will dissolve.
a throwaway camera.
Shed protested but somehow I knew
slick and glossy, cheap
Id need it, to know she was real,
The quality of life living bright and fierce behind her eyes
the jester-like cruelty of my own malleable memory.

There is a fear, though, jabbing at me.
he is silent. No solutions, just fears,
the chaotic collapsing world
no reason,

The floor is sticky
A burst of energy, my feet are running, pushing
desire

In her absence, I have no presence.