It Wrecks Me

First Night In Moscow

Ok,

so quiet Moscow moans some crazy tune

that thickens the air with some heartfelt poison,

maybe it's all the goddamned cigarettes me and all people smoke,

or the spastic insanity that creeps up around here every decade or so,

but just breathing drives me crazy with love and passion 

and some strange depression laced with metallic struggle,

sure I got a girl i love that loves on me and lives in me,

and sure I won't be seeing her for some time

and it wrecks me,

but goddamn,

who am I to even wonder that anything would change with us,

perfect is perfect is f*****g perfect

I can't deny that.

No, no, no

it's this mecca violin hum of the Red Square

that's got me whispering to my shadow 

when I'm alone

on a staircase

caught in the gaze of my own reflection

with smoke seeping out my eyes

and words pouring out of my mind

and into the sitting sun,

telling it to shed some light on my girl for me

when you rise next to her in about

oh,

fifteen minutes.

Reviews

[deeps]

Such a powerful write, I really enjoyed this.
Veyr nicely written and expressed!

[I Cast a Shadow]

I like the mocking of Gertrude Stein here. I like the impression that you leave while pondering. You are a poet, sir. A poet amongst babblers. Ya really gotta hunt for people that can write here, don't ya?

[emmajoy]

Seems you've described the you in that place, the concrete bustle of a city grey with swirling thoughts .. separated from the love you need, wanting her to find, be given, the warmth you're missing and wanting to share. And you put your place and feelings in a swathe of intense words that create their own hum ..

[J]

well, my first question would be ... what are you doing in Moscow?

secondly, some incredible insight here into human frailties expressed in words that challenge and rock and confound deciphering .....

very nice dissemination here from wide profundity to pinpoint personal confusion ........