this isn't exactly metered, more of a wordy prose... its not polished, it just all sort of rushed out. but see what ya'll make of this.
Who drank their fill of sodomy and waste
the dredges of a crumbling world of stone
Forsaken. Forsook. and left here, standing all alone.
In overcoats, gray jackets, to sit blinking
in the light of morning rain.
Young men all; and we are drunk with death
stone limbs to move, to stroll beneath the sky
gray buildings that the last of them have left
someone is talking, putting eyes and lips to sleep
And stairwells, left echoing to ruin.
II.
Bitch, I have looked at you
I have thought of you.
As I recited algorithms, tables
I have often thought.
And so I take hold
of your calm elbows,
limbs/ of your throat with fingers
and give a shout
and shriek, as you fall to the drizzled grass
from shattered glass, a window of the labrynth
with ruined lips, and hair a broken mess:
this knife will say how much of you I miss!
this mirror will show how much of you I lost
this clock will slice the seconds all day long
to words oblivious, and lost.
III.
to babble, words are soundless, and have breath
the noises that I speak, to hold you close
are invalid, a strain of frightened talk
that drinks to ruin, then blames good intentions for its hell.
So boys, lets drink to this, and speak to pain.
that sits quietly on our shoulders
in the rain
while we walk yet again, again the same.
through years and months that follow, and that pass.
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