Summer Thoughts

I love to saturate myself in the
melancholy of the winter still,
glancing through the dark at
the frozen moon.

My summer thoughts attempt
to melt away the icy branch
the moon is perched upon,
but instead, dissolve into the
numbess this cold has become.

The Fix

I find that at the immediate moment after
masturbation,
I am isolate.
All connections to my heart are severed,
ridding me of passion, love and spontaneity.
I am a man of pure logic dictated by rationale.
I may be perceived then as brutally cold and apathetic for
Nothing can affect me. My life is no longer an experience,
but an event attended by an indifferent observer,
uninvolved and distant.
My mind is cleansed, embraced by reason,
perspective and control restored.
I am no longer docile to faith or impulse,
but to sense and practicality.
The death of the Romantic gives rise to the
Realist.
My emotions numbed, my mind acute.
Life, its purposes, its goals,
is distinctly clear, clouded no more.
The effect is fading.
I think I will go and masturbate again.

Night Walkers

Sometimes I see them in the afternoon, sometimes,

though their time is the night.

They slice the afternoon with a scent too sweet for others,
stumbling through stagnant air with directionless determination.

It is startling to see them in the daylight.

Their time is the night.

We are safe in sleep while they roam the dreaming hours.
They dream only of dreams. Hiding away, lurking in
alleys hidden from our minds. Places left alone.
They stay there so as not to affront us. We have standards.

How considerate of them to keep a distance, though never far enough.
It should be no problem though.

Their time is the night.

Winter

I blew in clouds that placed a winter
In everyone I saw,
And that winter blew in a snow that froze
Everything I am.