i think the moon
is full of ****.

I sometimes forget to pitch my voice up
and I lose track of my expressions and my body
And I stretch so high that my head never comes back down

Nobody talks about me anymore, and there is no relief
The way I walk still turns heads, my perfectly adept
Hair and makeup leave quite the impression
But silence follows in my wake

I am fine, not searching for attention my careful adage
I just want to make the best first impression
Heels and dresses and eyes and stomach and ***
I drink coffee for 2 out of every 4 meals
And gorge myself on all the emotions I miss out on, living
Solely out of the pocket I feel safe in, my home
A house that sits just next to a neighbor
But we never meet

The incessant turning of cogs in
an instrument ran by heart
Shambles.
Stoic, admonishing words
frolicking about as frail, free-floating petals.
Beneath it all the clamorous tug gibing with the
Very voices you kissed me with.
Cold, but
unwinding the taut flesh.

I stayed
            though.

By your darkest demons, caressing with
Silk comfort.
Imbuing them with a dancing light lull:
your Reign of Melody.

To projectile your serenading strums,
To stretch out your fingers jangling,
on all the metal of the strings;
Gnashing the ivory saws of your teeth
you severed my bones.

I’ve become your music to trifle
I’ve become your naive, small bell boy.
“We’re not two, but one” you’d say. When
You knew all along, this song steered and dwindled
into paleness.

Sour hush.

gone into the deepest part
of summer sunshine
where i was blinded to my own heart
all that i have whispered to the darkest of night
hoping to hear answers unique

desperation has no cure
except in the mirror of the minds eye
where the wet soul hungers for light
where the better angels of loves delight wait
like brides to be on wedding mornings
the day dancing before them in beautiful eyes

wait now for the words to come
as easy as they once did
as right as rain
soft wet warm

i have gone into that deepest part of
summer sunshine
i found it while brushing my lips
across the freckles on her shoulder
like a roadmap to heaven
tasting of such bedroom intents
soothing the soul like a dark wine
in moonlight

i have gone into the deepest part
of summer sunshine many times before
lost there in the sweetest moments of deranged thought
where there is no fear
where there is no tears
only the whisper of my lips
on the freckles of her shoulder

Tell me you want me behind Closed doors
To the world though I'm known as the town *****
Say you'd be crazy to claim me in front of the public eye
I say if you didn't want me then all you told me were lies
I'm not someone who is ashamed of my past
If you had a problem why did you play it like you wanted us to last
So I'm a little young, you knew that going in
Stop acting like I'm the only one who made all the sins
You didn't have to come to me at night
Whispering sweet nothings, crawling between my thighs
Take your lies before I rip out your heart
Skin you and stuff you, display you like art

Hardened to experience
Like gum beneath a chair,
I cannot explain
This lasting hunger for simple fictions.

Yet prompt me as you tried so long ago
To imitate the joker in the balcony
Who shouts “I’m gonna be sick!”
And launches a bucketful of mushroom soup
Over the railing,
To this day I forget my only line.  
The gestures, too.  
And the sound effects?  
The mind’s ear can’t hear them anymore,
Let alone vibrate to them in Sensurround.

But I’m still slouching down in familiar dark,
Feet stuck to the floor, waiting for the previews to end,
Hoping that a moving picture conjures
Something whose absence has become
So powerful that I begin to think
It’s really the presence of something else.

The aroma of our time together
So many years ago lingers
Like the faint odor of mushroom soup.