yakksoho
Bluelighter
Baptism
I have lain in this bathtub
Every night for eleven years
And felt the tide sink and swell
On my thighs as an unborn child
Impregnated within my immature womb
Throbs to the rise and fall
Of apples and oranges in the panting
Water and I cry into the wetness
Around my face as my nostrils
Slowly overflow
This bath tub has become a place
Of rebirth for me a delve
Into the world of self-sacrifice
Of dying and bleeding
Into an empty mouth filled with
The water of a thousand oceans
Purified and petrified for
A hundred years and the salt smokéd out
By a six-hundred dollar tin fire
It is the only mouth that listens to me
Instead of talking over my voice
Masochism has never before this been
An art form willing of expression
Of the self-suicide festering in my
Breast as I heave to the swell
Of the tide against my back bone
Of the sacrificial suicide
Writhing in the blood that forms cessation
With tremor as it impinges water
My crown throws and jounces
Onto the pallour of the immobile jowl
Of the white god of imprisonment
My eye protrudes in trepidation
Its mate swells shut in drunken immobility
As ants dance round water droplets
Steaming from off my eyelashes
I press my ear to the porcelain cheek
And hear the hollow echo of gurgling
Lymph in fast regression as
Waste and bile to the bowels of
The sewer at the corner
I have lain in this tub every night
For thirty-one years watching the world
Go by without me as my skin turns to
The pits of lifeless fruit frolicking
As dead creatures to a cadence lost
Twenty years ago when blood still ached
In these tired old veins
What madness possessed suicide
And held me in pieces as a raft
In a four-foot sea of oily water
Rushing to circuses of bile in
The porcelain cheeks of refined
Agédness?
The water runs cold as tin fires
Burn out temporarily until
Little men with colourful hats
Find the time to relight them
And the strength to strike matches
Against their asses to keep me warm
Then water of a sudden runs fire
Into listless pools of solitude and icicles
And rivers run red with smoke
Thick as coffee and brown sugar cakes
Melting the skin off of pears and apples
And thighs brimming with creamy white lather
From the night before
Pleasantly lifelike and stimulating
And then it becomes a race for breath
Thrown out of me my crown thrashes
And hits dead porcelain guts
That used to listen and mouths that
Used to only gurgle in reply
To my woes of sentimental suicide
What fiery Hells exist in this lavatory
Brim with acreage of flames
That would melt the skin off a mule
Or your mother's hide off of her
Backbone as it did my insides
Twenty years ago
I stagger out and stand triumphant
Drunken and dizzy before I crash
Onto porcelain vanity linoleum
Installed in nineteen-seventy-two
When green was a colour people
Wanted to wake up to
My hand shatters the vials holding
Ancient tap water palpitating with
The juices of fingers playfully
Dipped within and my tongue
Oscillates as a faucet gives forth
Drop after staggering drop
Sinking and swelling indefinitely
Before reaching my quivering
Uvula
My last glance before I fall to the floor
Is as far up as I can manage
Into the nebulous mirror at dying
Black eyes quivering in childhood
The fall to the cold unsterile linoleum
Is slower than in pictures where film
Is played at half-speed and the crash
As my arms glide onto retroactive
Floor tiles leaves imaginary bruises
And bleeding scars on my knees
My last breath is the one that I
Shall always remember as the one
That heaved a pin-sized senile ant
Across a linoleum floor
And sent a rug flying from wall to
Wall of a room with flaking paint
From nineteen-seventy-two
The breath that smattered
Two eyelids to their eyeballs
For the last time on a pink towel
To be used as a bath mat
A heave arose from a raw rash of a breast
And lathered thighs quivered as
Forbidden blood pushed through them
A home-made timepiece fell silent
On the wall and broken eyelashes
Grew slowly apart
Great heavy eyelids stuttered carefully
Open as curiously as an infant
Feline at sight of a mouse
Marrow arms pushed with fearless strength
Against the will of a shattered crown
With old porcelain bruises
Legs forgot how to stand upright
And feeble child's arms helped them
Until dissipated feet breathed
Into the cold floor tile again
White haze disappeared from
Suicidal eyes and the first sight I saw
Was a pair of black eyes
Crying to me on a head too small
For an aching obliterated body
Bleeding with boils and bruises from carpet
Indefinite eyes looked listlessly past me
As mascara tears rolled down
A stark white face
Each time I emerge I wonder what it would be like
To suction my mouth around lime-rusted steel lips
And drink until water filled my lungs
And had no where else inside me
To go
26.12.01
I have lain in this bathtub
Every night for eleven years
And felt the tide sink and swell
On my thighs as an unborn child
Impregnated within my immature womb
Throbs to the rise and fall
Of apples and oranges in the panting
Water and I cry into the wetness
Around my face as my nostrils
Slowly overflow
This bath tub has become a place
Of rebirth for me a delve
Into the world of self-sacrifice
Of dying and bleeding
Into an empty mouth filled with
The water of a thousand oceans
Purified and petrified for
A hundred years and the salt smokéd out
By a six-hundred dollar tin fire
It is the only mouth that listens to me
Instead of talking over my voice
Masochism has never before this been
An art form willing of expression
Of the self-suicide festering in my
Breast as I heave to the swell
Of the tide against my back bone
Of the sacrificial suicide
Writhing in the blood that forms cessation
With tremor as it impinges water
My crown throws and jounces
Onto the pallour of the immobile jowl
Of the white god of imprisonment
My eye protrudes in trepidation
Its mate swells shut in drunken immobility
As ants dance round water droplets
Steaming from off my eyelashes
I press my ear to the porcelain cheek
And hear the hollow echo of gurgling
Lymph in fast regression as
Waste and bile to the bowels of
The sewer at the corner
I have lain in this tub every night
For thirty-one years watching the world
Go by without me as my skin turns to
The pits of lifeless fruit frolicking
As dead creatures to a cadence lost
Twenty years ago when blood still ached
In these tired old veins
What madness possessed suicide
And held me in pieces as a raft
In a four-foot sea of oily water
Rushing to circuses of bile in
The porcelain cheeks of refined
Agédness?
The water runs cold as tin fires
Burn out temporarily until
Little men with colourful hats
Find the time to relight them
And the strength to strike matches
Against their asses to keep me warm
Then water of a sudden runs fire
Into listless pools of solitude and icicles
And rivers run red with smoke
Thick as coffee and brown sugar cakes
Melting the skin off of pears and apples
And thighs brimming with creamy white lather
From the night before
Pleasantly lifelike and stimulating
And then it becomes a race for breath
Thrown out of me my crown thrashes
And hits dead porcelain guts
That used to listen and mouths that
Used to only gurgle in reply
To my woes of sentimental suicide
What fiery Hells exist in this lavatory
Brim with acreage of flames
That would melt the skin off a mule
Or your mother's hide off of her
Backbone as it did my insides
Twenty years ago
I stagger out and stand triumphant
Drunken and dizzy before I crash
Onto porcelain vanity linoleum
Installed in nineteen-seventy-two
When green was a colour people
Wanted to wake up to
My hand shatters the vials holding
Ancient tap water palpitating with
The juices of fingers playfully
Dipped within and my tongue
Oscillates as a faucet gives forth
Drop after staggering drop
Sinking and swelling indefinitely
Before reaching my quivering
Uvula
My last glance before I fall to the floor
Is as far up as I can manage
Into the nebulous mirror at dying
Black eyes quivering in childhood
The fall to the cold unsterile linoleum
Is slower than in pictures where film
Is played at half-speed and the crash
As my arms glide onto retroactive
Floor tiles leaves imaginary bruises
And bleeding scars on my knees
My last breath is the one that I
Shall always remember as the one
That heaved a pin-sized senile ant
Across a linoleum floor
And sent a rug flying from wall to
Wall of a room with flaking paint
From nineteen-seventy-two
The breath that smattered
Two eyelids to their eyeballs
For the last time on a pink towel
To be used as a bath mat
A heave arose from a raw rash of a breast
And lathered thighs quivered as
Forbidden blood pushed through them
A home-made timepiece fell silent
On the wall and broken eyelashes
Grew slowly apart
Great heavy eyelids stuttered carefully
Open as curiously as an infant
Feline at sight of a mouse
Marrow arms pushed with fearless strength
Against the will of a shattered crown
With old porcelain bruises
Legs forgot how to stand upright
And feeble child's arms helped them
Until dissipated feet breathed
Into the cold floor tile again
White haze disappeared from
Suicidal eyes and the first sight I saw
Was a pair of black eyes
Crying to me on a head too small
For an aching obliterated body
Bleeding with boils and bruises from carpet
Indefinite eyes looked listlessly past me
As mascara tears rolled down
A stark white face
Each time I emerge I wonder what it would be like
To suction my mouth around lime-rusted steel lips
And drink until water filled my lungs
And had no where else inside me
To go
26.12.01
