Headless (2 poems)

I

You’re a razor blade beneath a peak
a fatal-blow bad habit
You’re a good-looking guillotine
an advocate for contravene

You’re a nosebleed in the lower seats
a slow-acting affliction
You’re a sunset at a morning mass
a backstage party without a pass

Your upper hand is my rock bottom
I’m the one but you see double
the Greek countdown to your Roman numeral

But we all pay attention at a funeral

———————–

II

I’ll ride your mind
because you know better
than I
fill your head with
whatever gets you off
at night

wear you out
like a second skin

wondering if you’re wondering
if I’m still sitting
figuring
if I could ever
figure
you out

You’re a figurine
that there’s no breaking
down

an inbetween

So I’m rethinking
how
I allowed this
to take up the better side
of my mind

I’m preoccupied

but you know this
so I suppose it’s
only right to
control it
to avoid casualty
if that’s what
you need

if only the
focus
remains in
the sheets

So I guess what I mean is

I will try
to accept your
ceasefire
but inside both our heads
when we retire
to bed

I can promise
Hellfire
If ever you decide
that that’s what
you want

Instead

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Daybreak

It’s diurnal darkness
a silage left trailing the night
It’s a touch hard to part with
its traces sunburned by the light

It’s shadows enlightened
rays judging the sweat on our skin
It’s buttons up, tightened
Cover up so we don’t let it in

It’s conscience collected
discarded, abandoned before
It’s the day resurrected
and the twilight that promises more