Pull my hair as if my jerking head falls back to the homeostasis to your wrath of fragility.
Watch as my eyes roll to the back of my head until the beatings and the whippings were no more consequential to the hands of a broken clock trying its best to please a background from leaving unapologetically.
Satisfactory kept you from crawling back from rebounding from the ideas of how your flashback wasn't convincing enough to beat that face into recovery.
Instead, you try to conceal the love that was never there.
Wrap your arm around my neck as the room shift through the colors of the rainbow because you like it like that.
The rainbow was a symbol of pride but eventually, falls to inadequacies to the rhythm of your strokes ravaging my perception of time because the world around me stood still.
The red stains on my decorative false innocence were flashing lights for me from red to green.
Tainted love was my epiphany to witness my grasp of reality to degrade from a diamond to coal.
From summer to winter.
You slammed me against the walls of frustration and inhibition to relieve your inner demons by poisoning me with your piquant tongue.
Watching as your hands inspect my canvas for any flaws and imperfections before modifying what you desired best.
Hearing your soft gasps as you broke away from me to prevent me from isolating me from your senses.
I was born to endure.
Enduring your fragility.
Your inhibitions.
Your pulsating rage of seeing a man revealing your shadow instead of living a lie.
You would rather victimize yourself by devaluing someone's ability to grow than accept your midnight episode of murderous intent to cleanse your record,
Hearing my breath against the wire as the water evaporates to the polarizing charkas in flux.
The beeps of your breathalyzer validating full moon shifting into the holy flare of the sun shadowing the shattered nerves and dislocated joints on the countertop from the rendezvous of my Panama Canal.
The robes get set free, while the crown is set ablaze to the corruption and distortion that a man can never lose his zen.
Zen was so delicate that he could never stand again.
Maybe a dress would make him feel safer than his regular blazer.
Then again his temple will always be looted of his precious artifacts.
YOU ARE READING
Citadel
PoesiaI wanted to dropped my guard and give you something to read from my infant days of writing poetry until now. I hope you enjoy it.
