Past Master

I throw it back in my mind
Like a rubber ball down a narrow hallway
A violent little kiss on each of the
Framed portraits
Oh what a lovely ache
Within that grey city
Waltzing with ghosts, romantic and alone
Taking steps into my dreams
Rubber treat on cobblestone
And it saddens me that no breath
Can be as sharp
No vision so exposed
No sound so resonant
As in the annals of my mind
For when I look around here
A ripe shame indeed to flee the now
I'm a hermit crab
Pining for a soda can
Bored with the perfect shell
But in this thought a beastly trap is hid
For though I seek the rich feeling
Of hot blood
That comes with knowing I will not survive
I have been sleeping with such thoughts beside
Curled beneath my breast
The mind must hold some catalyst
A chemical key to take what was
And make it much more vivid than
What is
For over and again I touch paper to pen
Like match to dry grass
Hoping I may kindle such a flame
The earth, it knows much better
Sure that I will bow before
Her flesh is burned