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4:20 am



I am on the amphetamine of the soul....
                                  Anne Sexton


the vagueness of my situation increases indefinitely

I am spinning from the torpor
of the club lights
here in this momentary existence
where the lovely bartender kindly refuels me.
three girls dressed in black leather pants
are randomly sticking their razor tongues
down each other's throats,
with stolen breath their crimson kisses
streak the inevitable descension;
young pale bodies unsheathe themselves,
portray the flickering images of night
beneath their translucent skin
and surge into the acidic air
where with averted fate
there is only the dance
Help me
I've broke apart my insides
Help me
I've got no soul to sell

my friends, of course,
are as hollow as I want them to be.
my friends, of course,
are as hollow as I want to be.
the gaping shadows
and gaunt visages that fill the club will return,
but I refuse to loosen the mask of my existence,
tear off the death dream;
so I follow the dark light
and God is mocking down
from the domed ceiling
of the Aura.
I push some drug through my body
the terrible poison licks my veins
in endless yawns of the abyss
then howls like a madman
to dull the empty anguish of the soul
dull everything into red haze
until the penetrating lights fade again.
I can see nothing but the phosphorescent glow
of oblivion, twisted and bent into distorted angles
calling me, inward calling
the empty. beyond the within.
falling into void

she is dancing on the other side of the room;
from Hope her angel hair cruelly flows
over sapphire eyes of the deepest color,
eyes yet undiminished by the blue light
descending from the edge of night.
she arches her delicate body
her flowing tresses of blond hair fall in radiant waves
across her nape and shoulders
in motions as beautiful as death.
her movement towards you
is like a whisper
breathed through a veil of gossamer
that drinks in the spiring air;

tremor ghost

every word she speaks
is a strange silence
that I cannot break.
My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to God

I am lost in the inner darkness,
of my violent, nocturnal soul.
she only persuades me
that more poison is needed
to silence the raw agony of night.
she gives me another piece to swallow,
I could take it
or I could take them all.

her body glides
through the expanding haze like a ghost.
And I should love her the way
a child loves his fear.


tonight death wears a black dress

death faces stare

death faces
her face
death faces that stare

I've got no soul.


And in the hour before dawn, when the mind searches
for its own sanity and the soul is drunk with an angel's fever,
her linger stars swim through the blood-red urban sky
that follows no victory through beckoning perfume.




Copyright 2002 D.E. Willer. All rights reserved.