Tremolo To a Vibrato
Tremolo to a vibrato
when loud words
are coughed forth
from the inside.
A chest aches -
and history repeats itself.
Adaggio calls me again -
deaf ears stretch
my arms open
and upside down smiles
spills
your imagination
into sepia tones.
Tremolo to a vibrato
when slick consonants
of clever abuse
peel my naked shadow
from your wall
and quietly sing me
onto your fine linen sheets.
Your fingertips burn.
Ego and psyche tucked -
I am aloe assaulted
with fist-folded skin
clamped upon my mouth.
Nausea will hush my tears
as they rise and blend
into a cacophony
of eager reminders.
Lost epiphanies bleed
atop blaring crescendos -
the notes scatter
like malnourished roaches
and history repeats itself.
Tremolo to a vibrato
I'm trapped inside a lost journal -
where there are
no watchful eyes in back of me.
An embarrased immigrant is
stripped of his
challenged wares
and cursed sanctions;
learning how to believe in
the truthful lies
of my masochistic mentor.
I usually excuse
my tattered ignorance.
Self loathing and wanting comes
with the territory -
when my masts are down
and I'm anxiously anchored
inside your nurturing claws;
I sing aloud.
Tremolo to a vibrato -
history repeats itself.
Tremolo to a vibrato - please
don't sing back.
Copyright © John Heck | Year Posted 2011
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