Lucid Touch


Two minds. Two bodies. Two eyes locked onto the point of no return that floats like a white elephant above useless heads. Alive with fire, and so eager to take until these fingers itch without consequence. It’s in the strands of hair she leaves beneath my pillow. It’s in the gaze that cuts through me as the nights descend like some deep depression. California between her legs, and New York snow on her breasts. Leave a message, and carve your name into dusty floorboards. Hate my touch yet hold me close. Detest the taste of my lips yet come back for more when the sadness gets too much. Empty rooms. Sometimes love. Images that have no meaning, only as you undress, these thoughts of fatalism can no longer be ignored. Clouds of mistrust as you sink beneath the surface. Let me wash your hair; let me share with you what it feels like to be nowhere. Despair and black stockings as one by one the flowers on the windowsill wither and die. Ugliness like a rope around your neck, so suffocating as you try your best to get through another day. Merge with me instead, and the outside world will never harm you again. Gone like yesterday. Gone like the love that’s so clear to see in a dozen photographs buried between the pages of your favourite book. There’s no going back, but if you believe in my words, then things will be just okay.

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