Declaration - a paroxysm

While I enter you

There are two of you
I cannot understand,
Or maybe three.

 

Your eyes that show

Their back to me as
Guarding thick curtains,

 

The watchful silence that

Makes the rim,
That of your brown
Eye-lashes whimper,

And the mechanical rhythm

Of your voiceless blows
In and out, mourning hoofs
Of a train in slow
Motion.

 

Rust rests

On my hands,
Russet patches,
Bloodless gashes
On my wrists,
The wrinkles of
Our love,
The stains of
My submission.

 

I wish I could break

You into two.
An easy snap, sharp
And wooden,
The same way
When chopsticks
Slip through
My fingers, and
Bend on
Your pristine egg white
Paper-like ceramic
Plate, by the little
Sheer push, the pulsing
Flickers of my will, till
They, inanimate
Faultless  twigs,
Have no use.

Like my surplice is

To you. Stains-full
And fault-full.

 

They could not even

Pinch the bits that is left
Of me from inside
You.

 

They would not make sure

That anything is left of me
In you.

 

They lay, motionless, 

Next to your china balls,
Your tea-set
And pride. You have
Ornamental gimmicks,
I am not a
Festered ride.

 

Please let’s take

A different train,
Let us stop
At different
Stations.

 

If I am forced,

I really can be like
The stranger,
Wrap myself in
Darkness and
See you off, towards
The depth of a
Thick forest.

I could let you

Smell the ground,
Merciless, the soil
That all forgives.
You would need
More than a clay spoon
To dig yourself out
Of the mudded
Spot for you
I already had long  
Reserved.
 

But you are in luck

Today, I have
Already rot.
My legs putrefy
Under the sun’s grot
And I listen to
The grounding sound
Of a steel
That hoofs, hoofs,
The rounds
Of a vicious loop.

 

And under your roof

I am nothing more than
A beggar. My hands
Have now black patches
After I enter you, aloof.  
There are too many
Of me in you,
Your womb is filled
With gushes.

 

 Legless and pointless

To the next riff I swim.

Thread-like

 I relent,

No longer,

Or much less then,
A man.