(untitled) -- a collection of experimental poetry [COMPLETE]

my moon is not a moon

my moon is not a moon
but a light inside a window
on the ninth floor of an
apartment block opposite
to mine.

my moon is not a moon
but a goddess forever
outside of my embrace
staring at me from her
featureless black balcony,
floating over a mismatched
carpet of buildings
and lights and trees
and the glimmering windows
that belong to skyscrapers
looming on the other end
of the city.

no matter how hard i try
to fully close my bedroom curtains,
moonlight always strikes my eyes
drawing me to my windows,
where i fill my lungs
with cold nocturnal air
and longing.

listening, not replying,
the moon has nothing
to say to my sorrows,
or maybe she's got too much on
her mind ?

she stares back at me
with her ultra-white,
enamel milk gaze,
hoping i can hear
her silent soul
through telepathy.

my moon is silver cutlery
placed into a mirror,
a queen -- surrounded
by a hoarfrost halo
and a boa of creeping
bloodless, blue-black fingers
tracing the chimney
of a steam-engine train
that charges past on
invisible bridges,
momentary shadows
between myself and the moon.

everything below her
black ballgown
will fall apart, reassemble
and decay.
rebuilt and destroyed,
rebuilt and destroyed.

all the while,
my moon will merely dangle
from a wire
swinging in a room on the ninth floor of the apartment opposite to mine
where there are never any people
but ragged cloths on clotheslines,
billowing in daytime desert wind.

my moon is not a moon,
but a metaphor
which takes the form
of an inside-out snowglobe,
a crystalline vase,
made of interwoven palm trees
where i capture lovers,
so i can chase them in the night,
sweating peacocks and seagulls
out of my floating island pores,
running around
the same three blocks
again and again,
stuck on repeat like
the whole of humanity.

i've flown across the oceans,
in an aluminium missile,
and when i looked out the window,
you were still there,
welcoming me to New York
welcoming me to Moscow,
when will i welcome
you to my doorstep?
when will i welcome
you to my bed?

only when there's an eclipse
do you ever learn your lesson,
thinking that i've left you,
thinking that my patience has finally snapped,
only then do you repent,
only then do you ask for my forgiveness,
and several minutes later,
you pretend that nothing ever happened.

moon,
my moon,
can't you see you my tears?
can you hear me crying in the night?
i'm alone,
i'm all alone in this world,
give me meaning in this ever-changing carpet beneath your unchanging bedsheets.

i wish to shine like all your glimmering children!

i wish to fly like the midnight train
running past your vanilla pillow skin!

oh! what's that?
the church bells,
they're shattering
your bones!
the roosters are
tearing at your flesh!

don't go, moon!
bathe your night in
the fountain of youth!
don't go! don't go!