This distance leaves distaste, left misplaced, double-takes.
Another chance, service you with no second glance.
Deflowered your writhing, vicarious pose,
held within my palms, no longer your own.
Breaking speed of the sound barrier ahead,
carnal disruption, fully complicit instead.
Disruption and chaos, the lovely discord.
Grapes for lilacs, drunken flesh, burgeoning pores.
Back to the well to partake, those who desire more.
Cheeks balefully flush, blankets scatter the floor.
Whimsical mystique of this dance between you and me,
served us well in the looking glass self,
sky held down, knuckles out, primal wealth.
Stole a glance and begged for one more,
as lips quell for the return,
the heart suspended in air, head to floor.
The triumphant pulse of broken veneer, undercurrent hum of fluorescence,
quiet under sheets where not a soul could interfere.
Sweat infused satin, you trembling to never be left alone here.
My promise to come back to you,
pining for my flesh as I draw near.
Is that me, staring back at me someday?
The old man in the window, holding the twilight’s last moments at bay.
All the thoughts of regretful stalmates, talking with little to say.
Is that you circling the block again, searching all you lost again?
Alone and fearful. This may be the end.
Looking as I pass, your nook hidden from the world, taken from lost daydreams unfurled.
Broken Winters, Endless Spring.
You and I, seated at crossroads where the horizon begs our hand for direction.
I can’t keep it down
Head in the sink again
You think I’d know by now
This is a familiar space
Mirror reflection of an unknown face
I’m a prisoner again, I’m a prisoner again.
When I thought I reached the end,
I’m a prisoner again.
In a cloud, time to come down,
stay with me just one moment til then.
The stars, where they hide, grass as I lie
still long enough, when night closes in.
Rolling down those hills, naive kids full of beer,
the world spinning into adulthood.
Where the fray is unhinged, every memory cinched.
Let’s never forget how that felt.
Phones attached to wrists
Smarter than their hosts
Libraries silent, occupied by ghosts
Streets vacant, social macrocosm exposed
Land of the lost, chasing profit, fool’s gold
Turn the clock back, patient, slow
I was a kid once, the truth hidden
True as no child born
Of this world will
You can’t absorb the world, Tim
It doesn’t work that way.
They’ve got to slosh through the puddles on their own.
The difference it makes, if any at all,
outside of the grey.
The world that complicates
Puddles into tidal waves
The ocean swallows with disregard.
With a blue-tinged smile,
and sea foam a mile wide.