does the apathy translate?

the wanton wanderlust trusted
to lead,
to shepherd a dying empty me
out of the desert in my blood,
is more yours than mine I find
when the violence of mind
is finally transmuted into the
kind of silence that usually
follows the snapping of
violin strings.

you were always symphony halls
hanging framed in monochrome,
because someone wanted you replaced.

I feel like we all are, though.

is that even apathy?

besides: somehow...
new toronto and
the "old" moon?

                quiz me sober
with the best broke
and beaten h'americana...

quiz me lobe...
quiz me skint...
       quiz me dog-barking...
and quiz me
the tooth riddle gnashing
an evening out
spoil of soda froth

I can measure time with blinking eyes.
Reading the lights behind my eyelids
Reaping benifits that **** the atrocious hazel gaze
I find
I seek three of everything my feet can squirm over to. Gluttonous smelly mouthless creeping toiling sleeping paranoia, held back within the reaches of my skin, a key needed and kept secret, yet released frequently for its servitude to these, our basest natures.

I can measure bliss in forgotten time.
Pupil dilation suspected slime boss
What the **** am I doing.

How does this taste?
Can we sense the extract mixing upon our tongues. These words that please, or dissuade, or lie.
I can.
How you must be tired, a fatigue I've never known. To listen and believe!
Yet the let down.
Always a let down.
Will I be another?
Will there be a drop of blood larger than our resolve to traverse it, will I make you sick with my promises of sweet flowers, will you recoil in disgust by an unknown factor, will we make it past this first hit placed on our mingled tongues?
I hope not, I hope so, I'm confused, this is too new, all I do know is, all I want is you.

I am not a poet.
I am what I lack.
I am a scholar that doesn't read
Atleast the prose that you misinterpret.
I am not strong.
I am what I lack.
I put these daily burdens on my back
These ideas that break your bones.
I am a demon with no inclination,
Towards evil unless for myself.
I am what I lack.
These angelic guardians hold me close
While your demons tie you down.
I am apathetic
I am patient
I am death awaiting your final gesture
To the gods I am nothing
To man I am a riddle.
What am I?