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Psychosis at Twins

Richard H. Dunsany Avatar  Send Soup Mail  Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled Psychosis at Twins which was written by poet Richard H. Dunsany. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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The poem is below.


Psychosis at Twins

Sharp alien quiet accosts nuclear fallout,
Twin beds and I between them,
Remnants of faces
Laughter, tears,
Exchanges deadline in future tense,
The decimating absence of marriage
To anything whole--

This uniform hotel room mien
Eats emotional in-betweens
Red blue green
Symmetrically channeling Western loneliness,
"The hours till midnight cannot be so far away..."

You woke up from a nap
To the novelty of a breakthrough to love.
Through our smashed windows
You catapulted incriminating ice
In hysterics 
Onto million-dollar cars
As I laughed at my deadbeat reflection.

402. A strong number.
Overlooking a strong highway.
At dusk a family walks beside me in the hallway,
The boy I used to be unaware of what's coming.

A vase screams as it falls to the ground.
It was cheap anyway
Like every time I feel my heart flip
Knowing midway through
The floor and its face are doomed to marry.
What does my smile mean to the waitress? Why do our eyes keep
awkwardly meeting? Why am I still obsessed over her? Why are you
on the first floor and not listening to that awful tea-kettle whistle
in our room, the one that sounds like the far-off scream of a dumb waiter
getting the order wrong for the guv'na of gasoline? Why doesn't the bathroom
possess a fan? Why haven't you realized that our souls suck? Why don't you just
sit back, count to five, 
and find me lost in Swans? 
Did you check behind the Kraken?

USA Mountains lend me their ears. I see them
Somewhere in memoriam,
Waiting for lonelier wine cabinets
To drop philharmonic discoveries
About cousins who don't care about you and I anymore.
A knife flew from your tingling tips. Kyrie Eleison.

It's nein 9:16 PM. The carpet is morning inviting
Than your insanity your ghost licks the bed.
"Going away for a while, hit my head,"
Said Madeline (on TV). We're selfish, can't sword-fighting;
The digital flow goes gameroom lighting,
Ecstasy shivers
and a dallop of Daisy corkscrews insomnia.

"I luv ya." You slur this and always I believe,
no matter what the future heaves
knowingly, I know this.

In the morning I'll gladly forget
Our breakdown in this indifferent Connecticut hotel.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

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