fragmented memory

fragmented memory
or: sex, drugs and rock and roll

this black tab's smacking at my heart
keeping me up all night
with sweat forming on my brow
staining my shirt and
dripping down and
soaking my sheets

and mine eyes are wide with
uncontrollable excitement

it keeps me up at night
makes me crazy and mad
and I'm lying in bed

tossing and turning
staring up at the ceiling
so wide and enclosing
cracks turning into vines
that reach down for my mind as
I shout and cry to make them stop

and I see the top of my closet a million miles away --
next to the top of the door that leads out into the hall
with walls bleeding down into hardwood floors

and dusty corners
and I'm tossing and turning
and now on my side staring across
at the mirror above my dresser
so empty and so worn

I remember what I read when
you wrote to me that day

oh how I stumbled
and grasped onto
that dresser

staring out into that mirror
mine eyes fixed on mine eyes as
I fell back into my chair and
somehow crawled over and up
into my bed

my stomach reeling from the
bitter cucumber of the words
you wrote

and all the meals of
my life mix and decay
toss and turn
thrown up and
swallowed down hard
again

and oh god it just doesn't matter -

cause it all just sits unused
as i lie in my bed
so lost and alone

curled up like a helpless
baby half naked
dehydrated and
crying from behind the
caged walls of its crib
so lost and alone

and i'm aching for you baby --

You said you loved me once,
but then you left me
so lost and alone

a kaleidoscope caving in on me,
surrounding me with anger
and confusion

like a million shards of light
slicing through stained glass
windows and my mind like a church
where no freedom can be found.

Your hands they run through your hair
as you pull it back into a pony tail,
and your lips part to form the slight touch of
such a gentle smile as our eyes meet and I'm just
so glad to be with you once again.

These are the poems of a stalker.
These are the poems of a lonely man.

(c) June, 2000, Steven H. Lee