“lackluster jargon” by e. a. toles

“lackluster jargon” by e. a. toles

lackluster jargon

there is little to be said

                   always words and words

syllables constrained with intent yet lacking

in sincerity

(this is a sentiment, grown among
     aged roses and brittle thorns
       trite and cliché

uttered to the point of prudency,
my           god my god
     is this what I’ve become)

replaced with honest
sideways glances.

these drunk nights lonesome starlight darling
      in rooms of ghosts who cut skin,

who tell me that they love me
who inhale truth of their lives

with alabaster nostrils,

                 how am I to be here?

they sleep, they sleep.

i drink their liquor, alone.

                linoleum princess—
pray my skin sinless.

mary of Egypt deserted me,
dear sweet lucy left me blind at the altar.

oh god

please love me still-
born of death and with a taste

                 for wine.

all this time–
mad blindness, only, the smell,
only the scent—

still here, always here.

all of the bones still weeping
in ecstasy, words silent and queer

in their many indelible delicacies.

                  the noose so precious
lovingly woven in twine

even now i can only see myself
as a fraction

as a thing
hypothetical.

e.a. toles lives and writes in Southern California. He spends most of his time finding new bars and old books.

Category : Issue Two October 2016 Tags : ,