I can't get into
cars anymore
my body has
betrayed me
stiff, made of granite
rooted by
the presence
of two ghosts
sitting in
the front seats
all the fire
that prometheus stole
illuminating the rings
of their eyes
fiery coils
of burnt umber
and ginger
wrapped tightly
around my heart
wisps of
sweltering amber
that would make
the sun turn away
in shame
and I am
set ablaze
one of the ghosts
lights a cigarette
with its embers
marked by
carmine stained
lips from a
rotten mouth
a mouth that
once sang me
lullabies
but the notes
have grown
mould
thick with
the aroma
of tobacco smoke
you could
kill me
with one inhale
and rebirth me
with the next
I can't get into
cars anymore
platform boots
on shaky feet
Saturn's rings
curved around
velvet wrists
this is a casket
made of
chrome and
plastic
and there are
two ghosts
sitting in
the front seats
every word
they utter
singes my flesh
with every word
that leaves
their lips
I know them
less and less
yet we share
the same nose
cry the same
tears
shed the same
skin
I can't get into
cars anymore
my feet
melt into
the metal
my limbs lose
feeling
there is fog
on the windows
and I am
robbed of
the sunlight
I am a temple
without a god
a poet without
his sonnets
and there are
two ghosts
sitting in
the front seats
who make me feel
closer to death
than Charon
with every move
the ghosts make
the waters
of the river styx
fall from
my eyes
their fists
just miss
my flesh
by an inch
I can taste
the gasoline
coating their knuckles
my lungs flip
inside out
all the air
in my body
liquifies
turned to
absinthe
I mutter prayers
to Apollo
begging that in death
he turn my corpse
into flowers
like he once did
Hyacinthus
I can't get into
cars anymore
they are filled
with every rose
upon every grave
every letter
left unread
on sodden doorsteps
and there are
two ghosts
sitting in
the front seats
who have raged
a war
on my
battlefield
they have
silver bullets
placed at
each other's skulls
and they've convinced me
I control the triggers
I've brought
a sword
to a gunfight
but the blade
is dull
and suddenly
I can't breathe
all the life
I've ever lived
hangs between
the retorts
I'm too cowardly
to say
one of the ghosts
turns to me
and speaks
but my tongue
has never learned
the language
of chaos
and both of them
wield knives
that crave
the warm
embrace
of blood
but I have
nothing
left
to
b
l
e
e
d
- kenm 11/07/21
~ the end ~
