I CAME TO THE CITY, PART 8; TAXI DRIVER

 

A constant darkness,

the future unfolds like the road;
route unknown,

the past ever present
but kissed goodbye;

my lips still taste of yesterday,
my hips the heat of your caress
that has since slipped from these sheets.

I was always bound to restless,
to rest less and less,
I am creature creative;
a constant recreation concerned more with shadow than light,

more with what I don’t yet know
than where I have already been.

I am taxi traveller,
I will take you with me
naked under the sweating sun,
tender under starlight

but you are only fair;
you are the hitchhiker
along my highway,

a distraction on route to destination.

We are not destiny,
no two are designed alike,

every soul a single sojourn.

I am city when you are desert,
I am sand when you are stone,
I will have dried up
before you learn to open up.

I will meet you
under moonlight,
by the gaslight
already flickering in the morning light,

only the stars will see us burning bright
for we are stars;
rising in the darkness,

this constant darkness,

I will drink you and then discard you
when the dawn calls me back to destination

before you break me,
I will set off before you slow me,
before you show me who you want me to be.

I am everything and nothing
in your eyes, all lies,
we are only reflections,
projections of hope and hurt,

How can I be all you want
when we don’t really know who we are?

We are starlight, like I said,
already burning out before begun,
drawn to distraction
and drawing on our own dust.

But I am constant, now, to the calling,

am free to flight and fall,

I will love you forever
and yet leave you
before you’ve even considered it
a compliment to concern yourself with who I am

because all we have learned
is to look for ourselves in each other.

And yet I am other. Another.

No other,

bound to no body and everybody,

at home in hotels
that hold me for hire,
every stop another station in the formation,
every sheet another burn as we twist and turn

and then, in twisting, we turn,

we are roads constantly crossing,
trying to get to the other side

to see if the darkness is lighter, brighter,

but this darkness,
this constant darkness
is not a dark abyss,

this constant darkness
can only be conquered at the check out.

A constant darkness,

we are all travellers on a road
making moments, making magic, making mistakes
believing the future is forever.

But I am not concerned or consoled by forever,

I am here now,
running reckless along these roads,
seeking sustenance, seeking solace,
and occasionally a comfort from the cold that comes a calling,

(I will give you what I have willingly
if you promise not to take it unevenly)

seeking satisfaction in things temporary,
leaving a part of me in everything I touch,

hoping it’s enough,
hoping you will remember
the scent of my skin
though we were too thin to be true,
too fragile to be anything more than a fickle tickle,

trying to understand the sweet sorrow,
the ebb and flow, the hope and the hurt.

Goodbye can be a greeting as warm as hello.
Good boy, I am trying to be a good boy

burning through this constant darkness

and smiling as I soar and sizzle.

 

A constant darkness

so we can gaze at the stars in their glory.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud:

 

Published by deuxiemepeau

Published poet, writer, baker and former fashion maker, with footprints in Paris, London and Amsterdam but currently back home in Dublin with sights aimed at leaving a mark on the West coast one clear fine day...

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