A Slew of Poems Unrevised

Fantasy

The man with the flowered hat sits on top of my shoulders his long drawn-out hair hangs down the back of my neck
dangling like ribbons
he is calm resting here
his mind is stated
basking ever so softly
not to conscious
Not to unconscious
of the woman whose host he is  latched onto
his pedestal
is arrayed as if shoulders were actual  castles
with thighs postured like weights made of fresh skin and bones

the fat of the man's stomach lays on my neck
so I know when he is hungry
because the rumbling vibrates
the inner workings of my throat
as though I was about to use my vocal cords to speak

a former lover
I've sewn him into the skins that are of my own
not wanting to ever feel a cold night where the sides of my bed lay
unoccupied

I have obliterated my future
and the agreement goes like this
I man will draw blood from this woman's neck when I am hungry to serve myself
I woman will allow this man to draw me dry
as long as he promises to tell me stories of our lost love

He speaks

the word pictures formulate
and I trickle down the tics of time
ascending into the rabbit hole
filling in the mind space of my Illusions

but they are only ghosts to my physical body
which aches progressing into a
fragile teacup
and I watch as the castles of me
Slowly becomes a demolition project
each of my limbs is a foam
dissolving
chipping away
rotting
decaying
loosening

blood is the substance that pumps my heart
but the mind
the mind's...
imagination is what sustains
The love I yearn for
so when you knock on me and the echo speaks
"I am hollow inside"
all that I will be able to say is…
Mind Over Matter