in sheets i lie
your bed at night
twisting in error
for emotions dipped in moments
bathrooms blotting eye lids
to feel myself tonight
in a mirror all alone
on ice cold marble
it’s nature, i told myself
but trees don’t form to hurt
darkness doesn’t void to horror
and truth in error
becomes a reality set in place
by words of men
in shadows of night
talking to skies
in starlight
-
-
And I touch. Not because I want to feel, but because I’m looking to see if this is real.
-
I couldn’t sleep without you. Not because I needed you, but because your body was a temperature I was used to being next to.
-
perhaps
we never fell in love
perhaps
i never met you
perhaps
this was all my imaginary
and the man i wrote
was too kind to find
and the dark of the night
made sense
and contents of us
were mere fairytales
from a boy
under his pillow
dreaming from 1991 -
People take moments as if it’s their grand finale without the realization they’ll have a dozen other moments in their life better than the previous.
-
I have drafts about your neck on my lips like a library has shelves. It was all in vain and you were all in my veins.
-
i write about you and i see nothing
fade to oceans in a backwards view of you
twisting on sidewalks
running in a rhythm unbeknownst to you
blacking to a void where
i used to live without you
and we’re crying in rivers
but you’re underwater
it begins to numb like the melancholy hues
of the shadows of your bathroom
when the cold of the tile
touches your toes and i pulsate
for things to be real
so i write about you but i see nothing
like echoes in shells of the ocean
calling back to view
but a darkness trapped
in a void of nothing real
just repetitive moments stolen
in the back of your memories
like the walk from the room
where i left
and the blank
of your bookshelf -
leaning on lips and lies
secrets of night
in your mouth i twist
to a time i kissed
the back of your tongue
with terror and truth
where emotion consumed
and your horror became myself
without question i left
to a collection of moments
spoken in backwards to a tune
of somber hues
lost in the back of my mind
i said i love you
but was it
all a lie -
in our bones
is where suffering begins
aching in depth
for what it was again
from the start of where we were
in triumph for truth
basking in sin
of our knees against him
between heartache and moons
in ponds where frogs skip
and i told him
where i wanted to be
and i told him
what i wanted from him
and what he told me
you never ask
for asking is desperation
and gradual connects
are what is meant
in the endstate of despair, typically one that results in rash or extreme behavior.
words by dominic riccitello -
and i see them
ocean standby
with withered feathers
a broken pillow
oasis stature
i’m dying inside
for something to realize
it was nothing more
than what it was
my imagination
in limbo
seeking to occupy
emotions for loneliness
men in might
floating with satellites
out of an orbit
i used to memorize
like their hair in the wind
from the shower
with dripping water
conversing under
drowning in horror
of shower heads
in strangers motel rooms
i pretend
so the fumes won’t catch
and all of this
was just in my headmotel rooms
words by dominic riccitello
