avenue sounds are never agreeable, ignore the drift,
ignore the hum,
ignore the suburban neophytes in the city lights (I never did care much for hipsters).
ignore rapid eye movements, the flush red face, ignore the snapshots of you that adorn my semi-sleep state

I stare at my ceiling and see the cobblestone summer streets you once graced, long ago in the eternal occident, I want to ignore but I’m so very boozed, in a blue lucid slumber:::

eyes closed::: my head spins and sleep begins with the tidal delirium of dopamine drips, your legs, your hips, I’m drowning a bit, doused in a sanguine sweat inside a fantasy (**** I’m dreaming of you)

Synaptic friction
she is a pleasant fiction  
flash/sparks segue a dormant memory ,
the two of us riding familiar highways::: she gazes at me with her usual emerald encased ocular torment, those limbal rings cast aspersions at the last vestiges of my will power, until, I’m done, done in by the divinity of her lips:::

There is no end to (your) energy
It even finds me here::: in my dystopian  dream (eternal)
now
an inescapable, myopic curse
(nocturnal):::
the nightmare of not having you near

Awake, I roll over to clutch for the pacifier of your comfort (violent midnight)
I find only a fragrance,
i flail, searching, when those flashbacks fall short
isolated into the banality of bedsheets and pillows pleats

(the retrograde nature of my reality, now readily apparent)



cdh

You hide (fear) your feelings
better than me (I)
fetishized flirtatious banter
(that is) cavity syrup sweet

I’m contemplating the calculus of your eyes
mind ******
by the shell game Sudoku/chattel slavery chess of our distance


Your movements a projection film noir  
my favorite cinematic fetish
The flesh?
The mind?
... a thousand stolen glances (for the thousandth time I love you)

What would (should) you have me (i) do
I'm an open book (chest)
I could write (carve) our (your) story (name)
on a thousand lonely pages (my heart)

Waiting: Her ******* rest upon layered lacquer::: the tides of her hips arch high, press and point needle North, in a nascent newborn lust


she is infectious in her descent... she draws down, slowly South... unaware I see her there... I am frozen, wanting only to crawl toward the taste

the hammer of my heartbeat plays silent symphonics, she holds herself, moaning, to the sounds of a harbor rhythm:::


i make my way toward her

this man's approach is unique.
Calculating the quiver of anticipation::: the man is instinct, the man
grows hypnotized.

The pendulum::: the zig zag::: our protagonist reads her inner thighs.
The vine of his attraction now extends to where those thighs meet. 

She is ready.

I long for the reign of the visual (her first look of the day)
The pitter patter stampede on my conscience
quickly softened with a touch; such is the cotton effect
of her flesh:::
still she isn't here

vile is the curse of distance
the struggle to be close to her::

the want knows
what it's like to be beatified in accession
ingratiated in proximity
inculcated by a smile

when inches feel like miles
continents should be easy
still I panhandle for a word
dumpster-dive for images
Forever searching for you, a salve of perfection, frozen in time

There is an arrogance in the required syllables needed to describe her grace

cdh

Doctors Orders: Take two of these and text me in morning...

be thankful (after all something is better than nothing, right?)

better yet
satiate and salivate (side effects of the drug, but at least it shows you care)

fill my monthly prescription... (my god, the synthetic fantasies she provides)

the tantalizing **** tease of what could have been
with
promises of a RomCom script I'll never read

replicate dosage until hackneyed (then be sure to beg for more)

your body on a fishhook
your heart in a bear trap
always taken in conjunction with
a "healthy" dose
of

your true intentions
pixelated in darkness

cdh

Her warm words wash over me like a dope fiend daze... other voices boorishly buzz a cackle cacophony. At best they are the background noise of your existence.

bit players (endless layers) as she comes my way

Your body pixilates in an ******* focus, it bends, projects all else slowly into your frame, the deja vu of ****** tunnel vision. I struggle to speak as I stand before you.

All others condemned, reduced to extras in a celluloid daydream
they are arrayed for your adornment  
set pieces that surround you in the cinema that is your daily divine saunter

body sacramental (those around you incidental) as she walks away

The subtext, the reflex, the ambivalent, ambient lighting
means nothing without you

my arc, my carnal ******,
any other epilogue is dystopian

cdh