Polyrub

Silent, stretched upwards, outwards, the sky opened up and let forth the floods,
Spilling forth, drowning the cold barren remembrance of things past, things that
Can not be forgotten. There is a rhythm to the cries this time, with each thundering
Lightning strike trying to imagine muffled moans packed in the pillow cases you
Forgot last Tuesday – I hate to interrupt, but they really don't belong – and you
Seem to not feel concern for their explainable disappearance, a slight hint of,
“Oh, I would like to rest my still body here again,” a slight hint of how this is
Already falling apart at the seams, falling apart at the jeans, falling apart, falling.

Do you think there is any safety in suicide?
Will they still give me my reward when I arrive?

/
I don't want to disappear, for it still brings to mind this notion of knowing.
I do not want to be remembered for anything, nostalgia brings a certain hurt.
I am calling for rain, a rain to wash away whatever semblance of myself holds
dear in that tired old heart of yrs
\

“My passion is fading light, like a cigarette left at its butt, burning down bright, a cataclysmic finale to something so beautiful – but, as always... jealousy gets the best of the best of the best of us.”