Mania

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Mania

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❛Infatuation❜

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My lover boy, you have cotton candy

sweetness overflowing from your marshmallow

marrow, tinging the acrid air with candy floss

chrysanthemums. The world has yet corner

in you the alleyway of despair and rob you of

your innocent rebellion towards the uniform

misery that locks this Earth in a straight jacket.

My lover boy, you’re a coloring book and a

preschool Picasso has colored out of the lines.

Ichor that runs like the Ganges river around you

and in all my life I’m never seen a more

beautifully divine mess.

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❛Confession❜

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My lover boy, your name was my prayer, a

rhythmic muse that morphed into a musical

mantra cradling my hollow heart. A colloquial

code that only I and the air between the letters

grasp. I can taste the bitter pomegranate seeds

of Persephone and the sweet apple of Eve

on my tongue sticking the syllables to the

roof of my mouth.

My lover boy, it’s either damnation or dominion.

Both will land me in the underworld and it’s just

a bite away. I’d hope for the utterance of my

undying devotion to you will be like that of a

graceful dancer, legs and arms contorting

to mimic the abstract painting of Wassily

Kandinsky but I know better. My manic

repetitions of ‘iloveyouiloveyou’s’ will trapeze

out of my mouth like a toddler twiddling

around the maze of a playground bound to

step on a landmine in the form of a swing set.

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❛Rejection❜

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My lover boy, did you know “love is to hate as pain

is to heartbreak” was a lesson my schoolmasters

had failed to teach me, but soon my carmine

confession was crushed in your cruel fists,

cupped and careened towards the edge

of hope only to pull it into oblivion.

My lover boy, you hounded my confession

from the high heaven of your gaze and

heaved it into the harrowing Hades of your

boot. I never thought you love like how

sandpaper feels, but the burn is better than

emptiness, isn’t it?

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❛Obsession❜

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My lover boy, the love I so precisely perfected

now hangs like plangent plaque on your serrated

tainted teeth that tears the pages of your

confinement. Perhaps it is the punishment of

the divine to be cursed with the love of the

damned; to bleed red blood and toil upon the

cursed soul of Adam. From a deity to a demon

to a drudge is a punishment not even the

treacherous Tantalus could bear, but I’ll love

you through it anyways.

My lover boy, we’ll love each other like a incomplete

sentence chock full of nonsensical neologisms.

Broken and incomplete, tap dancing the

pot hole path between holistically healthy

and atomistically animosity. I could wade

through the purgatory fires of my self-imposed

hell because

                                                      divine

                                     retribution

                                                        has

                                              never

                                                       been

                                                     so

                                                       sweet

                                                     till

                                                        you

                                                came