I don’t know to write poems with sad endings,
I never knew
And if I tried, there always had to be some glory in the sadness,
Or I would die before ending my write.
I am a happy end man,
I did not see this end,
I should have but I could not,
My personal blind spot of happiness
Happily in love and blind to sad ends,
So short my sad imagination.
This is a reality write,
Like all my writes only this one more so.
I write a few words, pace around for a while,
Erase, write, bellow, pick a knife and break its blade on the wall,
Insanity in love, is it also insanity in life?
I am sane enough to ask the question at least.
Just back from a bout of howling.
You cannot call it crying, or wailing, only humans cry and wail,
Romantics howl, romantics kill, romantics die. Disturbed souls.
I pull away the cover from the pillow which smothered the sound,
It is tattered,
Torn to shreds by uncontrolled fists and body convulsions
lasting for hours.
There are red stains on the pillow,
soaked in through the blue-red-yellowish cover,
From a bleeding nose, from bloodied lips bitten into insensitivity,
from my sudden cough bringing up spasm residues from my lungs.
There is no blood in my tears. That would have been a poem.
This is a reality write.
I came down from the plane,
An empty airport, late.
Waiting impatiently for a figure, steps, a rush of satin my way,
It came, you fell into my arms, I kissed you savagely...
You knew already of the bad end, I did not.
I was floating in reality dreams. My reality. My dreams.
No longer yours.
Another break, sorry,
Went to the kitchen and started hitting the wall shouting die, die, die...
not to the wall, to me.
Will try to make as few of these as possible,
As much as I can control what my fingers and my brains collude.
My father has gone to the hospital for an eye operation,
sorry, cannot go with you... I said sunk in my own miss you misery,
My mother in law has gone to a clinic for a sudden amnesia attack,
sorry, cannot go with you... I said sunk in my own miss you misery.
I was waiting for their return
and all I could think of was you, the hope of our love, my own misery.
You allowed me to caress you all the way to the hotel,
You even caressed yourself my face, my neck, my lips,
one hand holding the steering wheel the other squeezing mine
between CD changes,
Sing for me, I pleaded, and you sang. Oh, I love your singing so much.
You did not want to make love,
You hesitated, dragged your legs,
I forced you... did I? I don’t remember,
You still enjoyed it, we did it several times,
You still loved me. I was sure then.
I am sure now. That you did not.
You were giving me the beginning of my last memory.
We saw each other so little,
so many the reasons, the excuses,
so little the time and few the moments.
The last day. You were sated. Was it the other?
We lay naked in bed, you were so beautiful...
Hug me, you said, you may never see me again,
And I felt like whipping you at such blasphemy,
Not knowing you knew I was nearing the end of my last memory
And you were giving me one last sweet present.
We parted, though fate played a dirty trick
and for a few more minutes we were united again.
The trip, the airport, that last hug ripping me apart,
The end of my last memory...
And here I am howling my life away again,
Hardly seeing the keys and having to retype each three times.
I did not know it was the end of my last memory,
I am blind to bad ends, I know I repeat myself,
Romantics do not get senile, they only get lonely.
It was just another happy end, though sad,
And about to repeat itself till there would be no ends anymore
but simply togetherness, till death do us not part,
till the final happy end.
I sit back now, typing with one single finger,
My other hand continuously busy smearing my nose on its sleeve,
And know that if I knew about him
I would have found him, killed him.
No, not you, of course not you,
Not an ant, not a spider, not a snake. But him. Blank mindedly.
Then drilled a 9mm tunnel through my own brain.
Now I know more, terribly more.
Now I know there is you. I still love you.
Now I just howl, looking for my happy end,
Knowing it will never come.