The Tragedy with My Darling
Amoeba
On A Purple Love Affair
-Christian Ray Licen-
One thirty to be exact.
When
the dawn drooled a qualm of nonchalance
Amid
the slumber of Somnus
She
knocked on the belly of my door
One!
Two! Three!
And
promenaded through my eyes a vision reel
When
at the threshold, I could only comprehend
The
slightest of her lavish sophistication
Clearing
my sight ere her visit
Was
I cursed under her despair
That
she scampered a bitter sweet embrace upon me?
Or
was I deluded by her euphoric stare
Ever
to exploit the innocence of my youthful fare?
How
did I ever reckon
Burying
her some kismet forlorn
Was
she to haunt me again
Shall
I lay half dead at my gravest a-scorn?
And
yet, I felt the warmth of her breast, soggy breasts,
Pressing
deeply at the rudiments of my chest- and how soft,
Yet
delicate they are at my bidding.
Tender
and soft, indeed- yet my hands are forbidden!
She
was sincere, I am sincere.
Some
precarious measure just knew no delay
That
my naïve contention is reconciled
By
a nostalgic contemplation of her.
Still
I could not understand her becoming.
I fear
her love begets revenge
And
how could it be counted sweetest?
Only when much madness is divinest?
Poor!
Dickinson should conform to thee-
And
she would execrate:
Fear.
Fear. Fear.
But
she loved me? To the depth and breadth and
height
My soul can reach when feeling
out of sight?
Should
I beg to deviate Ms. Elizabeth Barrett Browning?
Or
if she were Anabelle Lee?
Will
the heavens covet her and me?
Neither
Poe nor E. Browning intend to foresee
My
accord at the borderline of gullibility-
That
when awoken by the swelling of the purple Wednesday
a profuse
tears she shed in my skin
chilling
and killing her like Annabelle Lee?
Never
to leave thee. Never to forsake thee-
and
I blasted sigh.
Pity.
Pity. Pity.
As
it were the same promiscuousness she gives
every
after romantic exhilaration
that
my libido ran out of vigor at her commanding perversion
As
it was the same degree of torridity by the lips
down
to my neck, to my chest and- worst,
when
she grasped me inside by the hand
and
unzip my flesh a carnivorous treat- hard as it were before.
It
penetrates deep within. And I felt it.
Deep.
Unmoved, yet painful against the rubbing
much
like the pangs of guilt- but when at the hype
ejaculates
a sucking relief after tremendous humping.
This
was how she displayed the exhibition of my fantasy
Yet
worst- I’m still virgin- I bleed a purple Wednesday.
And
that I could not deny.
Though
such orgasmic excretion found us
On
the crimson pool of misery- in its thickest dense
To
flow from the itinerary of my disbelief.
Lump
after lump carried by the density of the sporadic sinfulness
which
I was cursed upon-
Far
worst, it oozes in liberation of my diarrheic sanity.
And
again, I cleansed, I washed, I purged.
This
was how the same romance was kept
until
I desired no further due for she was in great deliverance
at
the height of Nirvana; hers in triumph to ransom my sanity-
mine
in much madness, still in its extreme divination
mindless
of is abhorrent persecution,
Three o’clock strike.
just
as the thoughts redeemed my glance of Him-
to
find myself prostrated from behest at the foot of pillory
and
I felt no better than to woe in solemnity
past
the darkest hour, I stood in sublime oblivion-still
under
his solace that I’m touched by a hand morph like a Doctor’s
His
calloused hands, tireless of its purpose
Heal.
Heal. Heal
My
lacerated thoughts still crept me through
the
horror in my intestines she devoured in dehydrating silence
And
should be detached from the very flesh she’s feeding.
A second.
A minute. An hour. A day?
When
she sips through the veins of my heart to keep
my
beating a hypertensive pulsation.
Again
and again.
A second.
A minute. An hour. A day?
When
would she last?
Emergency!
And
yet I know I’m left with a tablet encrypted
“Recovery”:
and
I solely drunk from her eyes
‘tis
cup Divine just as Jonson serenaded Celia,
but
mine to avenge my sleeping beauty who
haunts
by minutes, no time let pass.
No
thoughts of Celia. But my darling-
My
darling, Amoeba-
from
whom I want to steal a stab
or
drink from the cup of elixir ‘til death bestow her
on
this day of our reunion.
Then
spare me from Judas Iscariot, O Mighty Nobler!
Shall
history impregnate another protégé
For
I could no longer delay
But
to betray
My
darling, my darling
Amoeba!
Slain
her.
Extract
her blood
from
the very suspension
of
my soul to relieve and rescue from her harbors
prove
me wrong then---
your
compassion
is
my refuge
with
loving
surrender
O,
sir!
Heal
And
on the very last hour
The
dawn drooled once more- unconquerable
Invictus.
O mighty Invictus has resurrected!
‘tis
true I captain the ship
I master
my soul
And
my word is victor
Hers
be defeat!
That
the very antidote to love her
Was
to kill her.
In
betrayal.
In
wrath.
All
my love for you, darling Amoeba
Sing
to me once more for Celia
Write
to me in scarlet like the love of Elizabeth
And
shall Dickinson be freed
No
bars be made.
Shall
Poe set free
You
and I--- my Annabelle Lee!
and
everything’s restored,
This
tragedy?
No
more. No more. No more!
