- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Sleepwalking
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Far away,
a wandering soul awaits.
She's lost and wailing,
pining, purring,
the strands of her memory
ever-fading,
and she waits there patiently.
Waits where patiently?
A cave or cavern,
indistinct, unrecognised upon
first sight, but special.
A scene from a dream of
restless nights and
sleepwalking days,
she sighs and craves,
and she waits there patiently.
Patiently for me.
A cold stream flows
there through her cavern,
like blood through semi-severed veins,
it breathes life into her again,
a ghost,
returned to former ways,
and sleepwalking days,
and hauntings.
Yet she waits there patiently,
and she stirs and yearns for me.
In this earthen tomb
which reeks of life long-ended,
death's foul smell does
spread and infect just like disease.
There is no life here.
All life is lost here.
Without remorse, with no exception,
she waits there patiently.
She's waiting to reclaim me.
Fate now accepted,
rests the soul long tainted by
the blackest loss, unjust
and cruel as night unwinds,
the tomb, the cave, the cavern
binds the souls displayed, on show
She takes me by the tongue,
and hand in hand
we learn to let go.
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