Icemelt turned malice

Where to
You depart and then you return
Riding lifts from chanced strangers
For some of your midday, midnight, midhour and midminute burn
Chasing the animal in you
Leaving your ashes scattered
As you smoked away your worries
Letting traces of your visual imprints
Gathered, escalated, withered
To those that were around you
So they would submit, grant favours, buy flowers
And deal a leader out of you

Whence to
Your absence
Affecting their aesthetic intellections
Nothing to wash their lungs with your halfday, halfnight, halfhour and halfminute fix
Has your ride gone wrong
Have the strangers been that strong?
Ride not the lift that you hitched for
Now they are afraid to say the unspeakable silence
The rock proved to be no longer solid
The gold has melted into malice
And those that were around you
Scattered yet remain your ardous spectator
To see their dealer of pleasure outfavoured and deflowered
Delirious, destroyed by your selfmade captor