John Eric #2

Tooth tips suck cells close to the skin and reek havoc on china glass skin
Seeking truth like a nomad
Searching dark dreams for difinity or peace
“Free Peace!` you said
No one should have to pay for it!
Pink and swollen lips in there only true form were wet and soft
And your sunken cheeks let my finger rivers trace you
As the pale blue ice fires light into your bedroom
And the slow motion stories play again and again
Over and over
The past nights trivial step stones were buried deep into mind fields
The thick clouds of green washed away
And the deeper greens turned into hate
I spoke anathemas to the devil
Hatred was no longer his
Now mine
The curious conception of concepts, ours
I still taste you on my lips, my hips still sore
And my bruises fading in mimicry of our dissipating ties