//-------------------------------------------------------// The Night the Room Started Burning -by Miro MM- //-------------------------------------------------------// //-------------------------------------------------------// The Night the Room Started Burning //-------------------------------------------------------// The Night the Room Started Burning It was darker then it should be, it was me and you like we always had been, on the night that the room started burning. It was dim and I could see where through the air, little fires showed their tiny forms. The night the room started burning. Heat grew thick, smoke steamed inside. Your body turning, I didn't know how hearts burn. When you turn in your sleep Will you roll across the path? When you turn in your sleep Will you roll? When you turn in your sleep Will you roll across the path? When you turn in your sleep Will you roll? The night the room started burning. He’s spooning me I feel it brushing against my legs. A yellow tender. Ooh, wauu, wauu, wauu Come morning, sample on my face A thread, a thong Ooh, wauu, wauu, wauu It’s covered with a flimsy thin layer, slug along, slug along, small salty bits. A mighty shaft. The night the room started burning. A stroke to sleep soundly, we have a roll in the voltage. An afterburning. Smoke all around, like cigarette packs. Pregnant eyelids. The stench of that stallion is so thick, a damp musky airborne spray. And I’ll grease your pole behind me. I’ll be the agent so you wont have to handle yourself in the dark anymore. My grostulating door requiring your fresh package. His intoxicating set of coglioni. The night the room started burning. An acrid passing, a nasty sting, burns the nostrils, reeks of sulfur, smoke billowing at low angles from the baseboards. Flowing outwards into this intoxication. First we feel. Then we fall. The breath is still heavy The legs long and straight The upper lip remains short The teeth still too small The eyeside is green The mane long and navy Still coming through Still coming through The night the room started burning. I am nurturant Compassionate, caring My ideal partner Should be assertive I have control Over desires and temptations Not so much These vertiginous demands are unbearable. The night the room started burning. This is how you disappear out between midnight Hoof in coronet, those loins, face grins so wide, famous hindlegs of you the hot colt That hipframe Sightlines of loads backlit by fires On the ridges of the riverbank Sweeping tails shining to begin Our heads once locked in constellations A last grain of dust lands in the darkness On tongues laid bare and turning to chalk I’m shutting down here Freezing in the red insomniac He is glazed in the hooves all around It is losing its shape, losing its shape I’m looking for a good cowboy. When every town was Paris, every sound was music. The night the room started burning. Now it begins. The clock ticking away. Waiting for the hoofsteps of love to appear and this time to stay. These needles and pins till the twilight dawn. Watching all the oranges fry. It’s over and the big hurt begins. How I wish, my heart would leave my memories alone. Why must I redream, why must I relive. The joys we had known ago. The night the room started burning. His thighs are full of tales, of all the nights he has known. A harvest of stars localized in my living room. A horny ergot. Through rust-red rooms where shadows breathe from every board. Give me those lips, give me those thighs. Sleeping in each other's hooves Tumbling in each other's dreams Was it only yesterday? I've forgotten anyway When you kissed my eyes awake one night in peaceful slip Now, I go aimlessly at night Always coming back to you And the shadows of this room The night the room started burning. Always coming back to you Always coming back to you Always coming back to you Always coming back to you Always coming back Always coming back I will be swarming at his groin. That leaning tower of Pisa. Plucking my feathers one at a time. You were a chance seedling. And is all about my love My love for you And this, this love does not love Which makes it all so much worse The night the room started burning. I do not even listen to it. I do not even acknowledge it. I lived I laughed I loved I left. The night the room started burning. This house burns down, like it’s made of leaves. Words beneath my pillowed head I am staring at the ceiling again Because I want to I am a cage, in search of a bird. I found you. I stare into the chasm in my room. The night the room started burning. An empty room in an empty space, like that final empty look he gave me. The night the room started burning. A shadow to the side. I am free and that is why I am lost. As I lie here and toss about So, at a loss without you And it hasn’t been easy on you. I know that more than most The night the room started burning. A spit and spatter of broken glass from above Every night before I sleep Boarded windows and closed screens so easy. The bricked off chimney and the padlock front door so tightly. I chew up the blackness putrid tar to get some sleep. Through a long and sleepless night I whisper your name Through a long and sleepless night As the vitreous gel rubs against my retina, a pulling burning sensation, streaks of lighting cross my vision, I see my eye floaters fizzle and schism into different directions. Photopsia remains for a time. From this humorous detachment. A starburst in the dark. Drift among my field of vision. Did our pieces fit? cause I remember I watched them fall away. Mildewed and smoldering On the night the room started burning. There are A thousand hours in my day There are A thousand hours in my day Life Has lost its taste Everything I once was Has lost Felt the germs pinging in the dark. Another night I gotta pull. On another silent rumination, that tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion. I sipped you up like a fly at the wide eyes of a dehydrated corpse. This nocturne filled with glorious ideas. His snout wedged between my thighs. You are my dreng. The righteous shall perish and no colt layeth it to heart. Raw to his eyes I have walked away from him, so far away Down to splintering bone ashes in the fine imprints of the wardrobe. With that voice of his the desert sea In his fractures and skies On the bedroom cabinet The night the room started burning. Remembering him is lovelier than the day he went away. Suffocating eyes and those agonizing fast hellos and agonizing long and last goodbyes given between supposed lovers. Surrounds around at the night of me in all kind of webs An earthquake in the sawdust ground, away to the famished sheets we delve and jump in. A grip at the gaskin. A slap on the flank. I once waited until the dark to be warm with you. Where the fantasies take form together. When I can feel your nearness in the night so close, so close to mine When my disappointments would disappear. When the room started burning. To die of kisses, ecstasies and charms, through the pavements of poets they will write that I had died in the hooves of ten thousand angels. All smiling and seductive as sin. Picking dustbins in the alley. I can now read all the sadness point blank range. I am the pursuer in the puddles from afternoon rain. If I close my eyes hard enough, maybe you’ll happen to come upon me again. In someway. On the night the room started burning. I will saran wrap all I can. These moments to keep Gone from this wooden palace. Scribbles on the walls. My nostrils squeezed through the coupling soot. 4/4 of silence This ennui is asphyxiating the aroma around me. And I would bathe with you, in that lovely murk. That night the room went burning. A little is all it takes A little is all it will take 555 I knows this room I can navigate it in the dark But I couldn’t turn from the crotch in the darkness. I’m motionless for seconds at a time. Nothing clears a room like removing a brain. I felt icy thermals dervish at the bottom of my hooves. Upon my branches. From the lacquered surface of my hardwood floor. Tickling my fetlocks. I turn the knob at a grotesque angle and I open the door, and the world is suddenly different. A swinging door of whatever is behind. So dingy and gentle down through here. By an open door A foyer which is marked with black and white tile on the floor But I beg you to please not stay and see me turn away from you, to not catch such fearful glances The light dims Give me air, give me air I need it to live Close my mouth and give me the breath Because how can I bear the ghost of you here? In the smoke filled scribe, I remember the hooves I pressed through your firey mane to try, to try and to try and hold on Miles from me at your doorway. And I I can't I can't Well I must I must I can't The night that the room began to burn. love love love love love Just give me five more minutes and I will be there, do not let go of me. When I live in a hallway that keeps going, I think fifty seconds and I will be there. I’ll be there, I promise. I’m haunted in the hallways in this tiny room. I’ll be there in absentia. It doesn’t help I live at the end of a five and a half minute hallway. 555 I’m carried by the bulbs in my five and a half minute hallway. Smeared by these dusty lungs. Tumor to the yellow chest. I don’t hear the electrons squeezing all around, I hear them freezing all around, and I see how I could drop into the darkness. So Here’s to a tired leaning life And here’s to a lousy life Shriveled up I go. Shriveled up as it all proceeds into the deepest darkest black. I’m jettisoning sideways. I fall down the hallway, through the brown and ochre. No other place existed. And it will be My eternal reminder. Author's Note https://img.youtube.com/vi/iqzqPfsfw3E/mqdefault.jpg