I found the perfect space
on the threshold leading to my bedroom.
I saw the desperate light from the lamp in the corner stretching,
failing to reach the desperate light coming in from outside the room.
I saw them as asymptotes, coming forever closer,
and never getting in touch.
Or maybe it was us.
I'm sorry? I forgot I'd surrendered so soon.
I'd have warned you, but nothing could've prepared you for it.
I'm sorry? But what can I say,
I guess I expected more from effortlessness-lessness.
The way you made prey of me, convincing yourself
that you Seek the taste of the meat more than the taste of the kill.
Mocking me, insisting that the pleasure was all yours.
Well of course it was, when all you can feel is yourself.
You stand there, touching yourself.
Black eyes hold me ransom.
The depth of your shadow fluctuates in my doorway.
A pool of discharge seeps through my floor, is
your stain is your belaborment is a flowing sacrifice--
your natural offering to the perfect space.
"Come on out" you say, oh but
you wouldn't want to know
how I See these corners from my corner.
"What happened while I was gone?"
Well I nearly found the perfect space tonight, lover.
It was really close.
September, 2012 (edited several times over)