Dementia

I descend into a river of reflections    
of my dementia.  
   
Into the collared flesh of your arms  
around my exhaustion.  
   
How I long to rest, even as the    
creature within me craves, still I yearn    
   
for oblivion, for what do I know of    
what I want when it brings    
   
euphoria through a barren land.  
It inundates the walls that    
   
hold me prisoner without bars—  
the residue sheen of lust unsatiated,  
   
waiting and listening for the lilt of a    
melodic cry, a prolonged moan,  
   
a note that resonates, piercing my own  
heart while my eyes ascend    
   
to where skies glower in the deepening    
red of a torturous night  
   
which doesn't threaten, but promises—  
Lover, why this banquet?


© 2015 Jade Pandora