Decapoint

I'm estranged from the core,
A wildly delicate distillation –
I try to relieve the pressure
With miniature prayer books,
Yesterday I even bought a Madonna and bambino
To share my grief –
My haughtiness snuffed
From me.

The fireworks are fading in my memory,
Seasickness overwhelms,
As if drunk on stellate angels
Or beautiful men that resemble them
After wine on wine,
And always
With those plastic bones
That melt,
Me(lt).

If I could pulverise your dreams
And add them to my moisturiser creams,
Pour them into precious gallipots,
As if a crypt for your ashes
And never ever
Touch them,
And never ever
Touch,
Except for holy conversations
Until I die,
Until I'm dead.