A Date with Thanatos

Through the night I walk,

empty shadows paving the way

like streetlights,

On a date with thanatos

his bony hands clasping mine

a unison in life, sanctioned in death

promised me a ring made out of poppy seeds

one day, no, night

he’s a makeshift magician,

but an idiot,

getting stuck in his own escape tricks

he lights my cigarettes upside down

happy to support a lethal habit,

to see me sooner

he lifts me up to peek over the fence

the grass isn’t always greener

but it is nonetheless grass

he says

his words like stains of wine on a new shirt

dipping our feet in the dark abyss

Lethe flows by us, a never-ending highway

his brother skating down it

none can skate like him, and yet

he only looks to skate like his brother,

forever an imitation of an ollie

awaiting the sun in the morning,

eternally unsetting itself,

instead we are enveloped by his mother,

and it suddenly hits me,

i can’t see what this boy looks like

looking at him reminding me of life

short lived, but oh so sweeter

we make love under his fathers gaze

it feels tender, bitter,

looking up at the sky together,

reminded only of rejection,

he always has a sad tint in his eyes

emotional shawty

running past the suburban houses,

housing the dead,

the dog on old man hades porch barking threefold

we smash the mailboxes

twelve times

i run faster than him, but he always catches up

cradling me in his cold embrace

saddened to be a one-night stand

but knowing an akward run-in IS inevitable

by beate björkengren