Trident

The world’s stage is empty,

and so is my mind,

because the sky is bright,

and alarms ring out,

from televisions and telephones.

Everybody is running,

like antelopes or avalanches,

but you stay by my side,

our hands tied together as hell comes for a visit.

Darling, it’s all over.

Life has called last orders,

reactions swing from regret, to panic, to peaceful bliss,

which is where I currently reside,

because we are sitting in the middle of a busy high street,

watching the people go by,

leaving goodbye voicemails that will never be heard,

voicing their concerns about how unfulfilled they were,

and we are on the floor,

just filling the time.

Your fingers are tangled in my hair as usual,

we share one last kiss,

and then another,

just to be sure,

on the floor,

traffic weaving all around our tangled bodies,

soon to be cute, quaint couples corpses,

“hers and hers”,

from the “End Of The World” collection.

The air will be hot soon,

so you take off all my clothes,

and the workaday world is just a whirl of background noise and ambience.

The sun is screaming a fatalistic warning,

but you are fawning over me,

so all I choose to hear is the way you mumble my name into my neck.

It’s almost time,

my love,

time to sleep forever,

never without each other’s arms.

The sky is blinding, and almost as beautiful as you.