Re-Composing

Commitment

that drains the blood

from sleepy eyelids

and masks the

rotten suggestions from

pleading fingers of

all the junkies left

with nothing to do

but lie for spare change.

Young minds

broken yet malleable, unlike

brittle glass, can be re-jigsawed

together.

Maybe I'm just tired of

trying to dissolve

crushed glass in water.

It will not taste sweet

as it lacerates your larynx

and refuses to be transformed

hear,

hear this you tasty morsels of

forgotten fruit, forbidding

that your skin be broken by

virgin teeth and

your juicy flesh, oozing

flavouring from their

exotic entrapment.

That in the unconscious memory

as a dust lined ornament,

but breathing, wait:

wait for nothing but to be desired

and burning lustful eyes will

strip your dust clothes and

greet your exposed beauty.

You, though beautiful,

are not the meaning of life.

Greater love than

physical union of

delighting personality

exists!

And this existence predicates

priority upon its

perforated limbs;

renewed more solid than

impenetrable matter,

a new process of considering

every decision as

definitely its own gravely voice...

and likewise, desires; subject to change.

Mirrors of want, distorting

over centuries of

standing upright,

skin hangs from the jawline

of innocence beneath.

And desires outlasting

pigmentation of youth,

subject to change,

beyond aesthetics;

beyond urgency;

and beyond

the descriptions of impatient demands.

Written: mid June 2011.