Cicadas and smiles

Carved in bone your velvet voice collapses into smiles
Like explosions of honey
Into the cigarette stale air I cling onto
Hanging down the damp recorded dreams of your eyes

Those musty, transfixed holograms distort pain into soft dunes
new opportunities,
echoing shadows and exotic lands far off into the distance
deep pools, soft visuals ,
those dormant windows lead outwards
into endless hazel rivers that touch the sky

tinted by the exile of vanished whispers
my dying breath touches your skin
dances on the windows
competes with a million cicadas longing for petals
all moaning, all lusting in the fractured dusk, their cries burning into my ears
in this warm collapse of day
this liquid evening of burnt umber
and a feint rhythm of a clock's minute hand
replaying in déjà vu dreamscapes

There's just us in this empty room

us and my dislocation, it’s a series of endless
stupid questioning
in the dark romance of my soul
and collapsing tides of you
as warm dark, insect chords
fuse into the audio of strange internal landscapes in layers
my vacant touch lingers in the empty corners of your magic wrinkles

you’re wearing those same clothes that you love
as you walk around the room
into the ghosts of summer nights
into the late rainfall of endless exoskeletal forms
minute insect skeletons
you with that damn impossibly beautiful smile
pure like your drug of choice
bruised into the dark, black, blood tides of your lips
untainted by the twisted, squid ink, bleakness of my voice
unfading like the impossible outlines of this room’s bones
and fractals of light
as you pour me another
and smile