Numb

[penguin]

In starry circles elevated
at Olympian floors
we have hyperventilated
on excursionary tours,
beheld our images dilated
in mementoes and encores
as we bathed intoxicated
behind visionary doors.
All things become outdated
given time enough, of course,
and my feet drag to the drum
now that I am numb.

With a fluency of language
(unintelligible babble)
I spoke ecstasy and anguish
to the comprehending rabble.
I could reconstruct the damaged
carried to me from the battle
and deconstruct their baggage,
hoist them back into the saddle.
But the eloquence has vanished
and the road is too well travelled;
shellshock has struck me dumb
now that I am numb.

I played the part of Casanova
when I still possessed charisma,
with a hand up your pullover
and an eye upon my finger
as it fastened to your shoulder,
as it waited for the whisper
that implored me to be bolder.
Ah, the blood is running winter
and the bones are broken colder
as I dither and malinger
in the fear that I can’t come
now that I am numb.