Switching on of the Lights

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by Dhanuka Bandara

When the humidity of the night is tangible on your skin,
Its ghastly imagery dulls the senses into acceptance
The stench of urine,
The flash of headlights that dims the sight
You’re too tired to keep the eyes open
But nor can you sleep

For you love, a cigarette-butt flower
Pain is toothed, it gnaws
Spits you out like warm blood
That stains a throbbing penis
I am a little bottle I cork up my neurotic spasm
When the face that you held between the thighs rises to meet you
You can’t fake your life like an orgasm

It shortens me to a message
Circulated at 33 cents a fuck (tax included)
Your shrill laugh pierces my ear-drums, I am deaf now
As you read me, a joke without the punch-line
How can you laugh at me? How can you?

He fucks without condoms
Doll you should get yourself on the pill
He screws you up like a nail into the wall
Your cunt is dry you’ve had your fill

Unnerved by the man
Who squats and pees into a drain and other sordid sights
Disturbed by the impending eventuality that blights
Like a broken filament of a bulb you wait
For the switching on of the lights

April (is the cruelest month) 02, 2011


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