It was when you left. You left the world under the cooling of half of a bed. I was closing eyes in dream as tightly as I could. Eyelashes were driving into smooth eye area, you cut my dream into few measured slices. I have lost all my eyelids. In every single white slice, in every single square kilometer of drying up iris was your going stale smell. Your cold feet, soft hands left epidermises of the days which I couldn’t be sure. The very first time form the beginning of my life I couldn’t be sure of the future. You left it behind closed doors, too far away, too shallowly under the doormat. You threw my life somewhere under your blood. I can’t transport oxygen to your lunges any more, I can’t touch sleeping. I can’t sleep. You didn’t teach me anything, didn’t prepare me to speak beautiful words and smile to sticky from drying out sperm sheets. Yours winding spermatozoons are slowly sinking into my stomach, leaving chapped stain. They can’t draw a breath. They are not breathing under the water.
I have got you on my table, under my nails, on my hair the smell of cigarettes from your lips. I have got miliard of scratches from your facial hair on my back. Desquamated skin on my cracked lips. I am nibbling my cheeks form inside, chewing a hole I want to be able to scream through ulcers in face.
I saw you few days ago, from a distance. From the bus window. With a smell of puffing man by. It was so cold. You were dying in a wind, it was taking off your coat I had its blows in your hair. You were still naked for me in a too big coat in too small probabilities and too loose thoughts. You were then only mine. On that pavement, like under the bedding, like on my chest and like between my thighs. Mineyoursorganslettingforproperfunctioning. Teach me how not to see you. Brick the bus windows up, nail with corrugated plate up. You can even catch the Christ and crucify him on my backbone. I will let his inert body to pin down my knees. You can look how I am collapsing, you can water me with your sticky sweat. You can stretch ourlordandservantofyours on a doorframe of whatever doors out, that once which you do not close at night, at the time the wind was strong too.
I have had you in my bed to little. In my life I have no one else. In my bones I have had packing bubbles. When you were crushing my calfs, you were ripping my marrow with quiet fractures.
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