Coconut rum, too sweet,
as I sit on the edge of an
empty swimming pool,
lost in the curse of a dream.
Drunkeness can’t spin the sky
nor raise passions beaten down
or remind of her too sweet kisses,
or the night she came to me.
Nothing in the stars, nothing at all.
The lights of extinct worlds, dead rocks
and places colored like a child’s game
when they show them on TV.
I don’t feel anyone creeping up.
I don’t feel a demon on my shoulder.
Coconut rum will not chase away this feeling
with the warmth of intoxication.
What dreams I once knew lay in the stars,
but it’s all lost now, as if it never was at all.
I don’t dream of her, or her too sweet kisses.
I dream of silence, and coldness, and no more light.
The moon will not whisper words, though I am mad.
The stars don’t even contain unspeakable things.
All things unspeakable, exist solely in my thoughts.
Too sweet coconut rum sickens me, and the night is cold.