The ghosts of your life
touch my eyes
with worded apparitions
lifting the fog of death
from my senses;

Reaching inside my soul
and grasping the core
of my beliefs,
my beatitudes,
the heat of my body-

Bringing the best
of myself to the surface
striving to dissect
each syllable
each phrase written
with the blood of your past

Trying to piece together
an answer,
vainly seeking to make sense
of your slam-

Knocking the breath from my lungs
with an antifreeze cocktail
of desperation…

Scalding the lining of my esophagus
with vinegar precision
burning a path of need
through my bloodstream
touching the very tips of my veins
setting my nerves on a pleasurable fire.

I can’t get enough of this…

Sensation.

The scourging inner flame
sand papering every barrier
searching for the Truth
behind the pain,
behind the empty nights
with vodka bottles and ink
so precisely depicting the moments
of you
that frantically engulf my thoughts.

Drawing me like a lamb
to the alter-
like flocks toward slaughter.

11/7/08 (c) Claudia Casanova