Heaven you when
Put a gun to my head
and paint the sky
with my dreams.
Floating. Falling. Fucking.
I see myself staring
back at me in anger.
I attack me, or the
other way around, perhaps.
I have a dagger, sharp
and silver hilted,
which I stab into my other -
my reflection, my doppleganger.
His throat is destroyed
many times over, but
he doesn't die.
Carpe jugulum.
He's on the ground
as I stand over
stabbing his neck,
his eyes laughing - my eyes
looking back up at me,
taunting in insolent life.
I strike his forehead,
dagger flashing thrice,
cutting into flesh and bone.
Finished, three stab wounds
reform into three numbers
721
printed in blood
on his forehead,
my forehead.
Life finally leaves his eyes,
green like mine,
dead like mine.
Tears fall in mockery
of the blood running down his face.
My hands are clean,
and the floor lies unstained
by his life, flowing free now
from neck and head.
Dreams seep slowly from
his shattered skull, spreading
across the dining room carpet
on which I killed him.
Blue on blue - dreams on carpet -
the slender curves of his dreams
visible naked beneath too small,
sideless robes, beautiful and feminine.
Desire flashes as I see those dreams,
now released, free, dancing,
and I cry
until sleep overtakes me again
- temporary death.

09/20/2001

Posted on 09/20/2001
Copyright © 2024 Gary Hoffmann