by John Eivaz

John Eivaz (anothername_9@yahoo.com) 1999


Even as

out of this deadening

I wish for nothing --

I still want...

Would bad dreams turn to sharp psychosis

if I stoked them with absence

and wrapped my absences in mystery,

to arouse your delicate paranoia?

I would like to see that:

dishevelment of mentation,

assault upon feelings from feelings

ragged from overuse, by

the razor's edge of desire.

Psychosis, even something less dramatic--

I'd like to see that on you.

Could I command a sense of intrigue,

enough to have you plod through my stink

and ignore my ugliness

and accept your unwelcome obsession

of immersing yourself within me?

I could do the cage thing

and watch your love attend,

the etherized rag of lust,

the welcome release of self from self

into acrid grey mutation, never ceasing.

Caught, you could tell that story,

I'd like to hear that from you.

Can it go long enough

that when it ends, it injures you--

same as your tongue crippled me,

your eyes wandering too far into mine

blinded me, and your body,

impenetrable as heaven

and as worthy a goal

forced nightmares upon me--

pains and dismembers you

as your wound of disappearance

has ravaged me.

I'd like to feel that,

feel that as it happens to you.


John Eivaz (anothername_9@yahoo.com) 1999


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