By Sophie Nelson
A white face set in the onyx air,
Shadows cast in the brow-less sockets
And beneath the cheekbones built high.
The skin, smooth and spectral,
Like waveless milk silently filling a,
cast sculpted from crystalline glass.
The man.
A balance between bones – sharp, Dangerous.
And skin – gentle, rhythmic.
An all-knowing silence waits sedately.
In the shade of the angular, alien face –
The unnatural paradise found.
And together with the silence,
I wait before him.
Soundless, listening,
Like a shattered child pinned by,
static sheets,
Craving to be beamed,
into a regenerative dream.
I am crystallized by the glimmer
In which he resides.
My lids affixed in feeling.
For even a fleeting wink.
Might sacrifice the sight of a,
desolation-destroying pull.
At the corners of his pallid grin.
Spasmodic; an electric twang surfs.
The black waves swelling,
behind the entrancing statue in the,
shadows.
Sonic chords from vibrant galaxies afar,
Tangle into a soul-awakening harmony.
Time slows, my breaths quicken pace.
Rapid, shallow risings,
behind the cage comprised of immortal,
bone.
Sounds and senses building, still.
All things existent in this smudge,
of darkness,
Sharpened by the shards of broken,
Iridescent glass sleeping under,
the mask of martian skin.
His glossy lips pull,
dividing like dustless blinds.
Positioned before an illuminated.
Window to a world interior.
A screened satellite,
Composed of canines and crowns,
Is colorcast,
to the pale-pink city in my skull.
Teetering transmissions from teeth,
etched askew in ivory,
Bite through wavering waves,
of thought
And internal buildings misgiven.
The blackness lingering in the roused,
E=euphonic air,
Is sucked and swallowed up,
by the floating lungs of the starman.
As though it were nicotine,
inside a cigarette, packed and sealed,
B=by the silent fingers of the night,
just before dawn.
