Control

From Ultramarine to buy click here  There’s a small tickat the corner of your mouthand it plummets into sadnessmuscles dropped beneath the skinstretching each and every yearto a sculpture wrought with slackness.Here the lines are sharp engrainedlike paper mache puppetstelling us just where you’ve beenand how the weather lashed you. *Shadows writhe on city streets but you hold the smell of mountains, sky so blue it filched the tint from your eyes leaving us staring into opaque hardness wondering what is missing:  trying to find a meaning.*There’s a small tear in your sidewe’re not talking aboutthe blood of Christ, but something similar.After the Ave Mariasno holy water can assuage your thirstand the two robbers on either sidesimply take up space. * Maybe it’s my pathology that shrinks away from your engulfing attempts at control, it makes me wonder how you can have lived so long and know so little. There is something obscene in your schoolboy necessity to love with a love that encompasses annihilation. I, so afraid of being engulfed back away, keep safe distances and strong armour between us. There’s something to retrieve from all this fear, something to hold conferences around, something to attire myself in. Perfumed oilsheat of desert suncacophony of tombsrevisitingmy lost extension.