White Washed Walls

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Sometimes, I dream in white washed walls
And grey floors…
Where the pungent odor of sex and antiseptic
Smothers me
It’s strange, that on a night like tonight
As we lay in our private galaxy of Cotten and limbs
As you draw constellations across my skin,
That my thoughts are only evil.
In my mind I love sleeping naked, curling and curving my body to fit you perfectly
Instead my reality is the sterile modesty of celibacy
That was imposed on me,
I sleep in a quiet empty box,
With no warmth
No emotion
And there are times I wish that I had you.
Not the shell that’s been lingering around lately,
Whose jokes don’t seem as funny
And who disappears a little bit more each day…
You are hurting
Yet My feelings are generic
With a characterless space occupying my being
Everybody thinks I’m being mean,
Because I don’t smile when you pass by
Cause hey, guys like you don’t come along everyday.
But I really don’t have anything to say and I’m worried,
About all the unfinished puzzles
And opportunities that you represent…
Of white washed walls
And broken hearts,
And days spent reminiscing
On a small sac of membranes and blood
Where a part of me once slept.
It’s gone now,
This feeling.
And I’ve been reeling trying to get it back!
I’m trying my best to think clearly,
And not to allow my fantasies to guide me.
Yet in this fantasy world of living red planets, time warps and a bouncing piece of you and me I cling.
As I look outside myself, at the reality which should be me,
I’m stunned.
If crying would make it better
Then I would be healed of this emotional wound that has begun to fester.
I’m tired of dreaming in black, white and red,
Tired of staring at the grave of my toilet
Tired of my deviant thoughts
And suicidal emotions
Right now I just need some peace
Some therapy of musky body fluids
And slow sad music
But these white washed thoughts
And my generic heart
Is torn even beyond you!

Wrote this poem after loosing my baby about a week ago… It’s a struggle…. But we are getting through it together!

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