The Red Glare

When I am lonely, or fearful

or doing one of those completely awkward maneuvers

that all humans need to do,

I imagine you appearing

in my doorway nursing a grin.



I see it in my dreams, really

me racing to the surprising mold of you in my doorway.

me, filled with an intention of desire

that would turn into an uprooted rage--

would destroy you with fingernails painted in malice

to your surprising view, I'd then rip your hair out.



but, alas the image is just fiction,

you won't appear, not in this month

or the next, (though an exciting thought-me kicking your ass)



Until then, it's the nicest night of the year

I sit here with a deaf ear,

paying no mind to anything except

the thought of sweet escape (and decay)

of your deepest organs.