-                                    u
                          ­        j       m
i may let go and                  p
                                      
                                                   f
                                                     r
                                                       e
                                                         e

                                                          f

 ­                                                         a

                                                          l
    ­
                                                          l
    ­            


                                                          d

                      
                                                          r


  ­                                                        e  


                                                          a


­                                                          m


   ­                                                       n


      ­                                                    i


         ­                                                 n


            ­                                              g


               ­                                        stop.

“I love you like the moon.”

         “I’d do anything to see that smile.”

                      “I’m standing on a roof
               and the tingle of the edge
                          reminds me of you..”

                 “Anything, anything for those eyes.”

            “Do you want the gifts I have for you?
        *Nope, I just want you.
                 Kay, I’ll wear a bow.
         I’ll wear a bow too..”

                              too,
               too,
too,

  girdled,
       packed up,
   ensnared, stacked, ****** up -
  
      All fickle,
   molded, folded
           to the point where the paper
         starts to tear,
                    
   “One day, we’ll get married.”

Cold,
    recycled feelings
   and you still don’t care?
Care enough to play nice
   with the frail beast
          at your feet,
  the silent song
whisking
   the oil
                 and
         water
  into grey -
      
    “A fantasy –that’s what you are to me..”

Vacuous games
    you still like to play -

   as if
      I were a fool, too,
                     like him –

       or a fool, too,
                               like you -

  not to see how bad you are,
             how sad you are,

           lonesome,

         aching baritone
     deceiving a different home
       with the loudness still in your lap,

       ended with that slap,
        started, again, with that stare,
      that glare into a promise,
          a dream worth more while
        than a bed full of loveless tricks
             and a jealous heart
                rung out,
        back in the back,
           where the bees feast
                on all the hot meat
            swallowed,
      inhaled by your salty appetite

                              for sadness,
                                 contrived madness,

              again,
              again,
             ­ agrain?,
              again,
              again?,
          ­    again,
              a_pain -

                  ****,

ungird me from this swaddling love cocoon,
                     unshackle me,
                         untie me from this camouflaging lie,
                                       unwind me,
                                    unbind me,

              don’t blanket me with all
               you think I want to hear…

        if you don’t want me -
             let me love another      


        “..almost like it gives you joy crushing me so hard -
                   all I’ve done is love you.”

magic in,
throughout the spell
w-trapped ‘round
the beating stick,
ay-ya,
blending with the blurred corners,
in with the mix of mixed-up-**** business,

“who said they gone fight for freedom?”,

out in the courtyard,
out on the yard,
they fight with the message underneath,
in-betwixt reality and fatality,
alongside
all those poison berries
all those violated thoughts by the projector,
protector,

on who’s turf?

“Not mine, not mine” said the machine,
said the auto-plane, touch, voice screen,
said the custom fit sack of *******,

again,

watered down source
of noise,
but in these foggy places
I see no evil,
feel nor fear
the throbbing ‘umph
with my achilles in it’s mouth,

in this purple-green-dripping pink
glare,
       glaze
                           of ‘the level above’

        all the consciousness
before -

I remember one thing,

my love for you

‘saw him standing at the brink,

   crusty flick,
scabbing ash
    housed between two neighboring fingers,

      shedding
   top coat,
       peeling mask

                  eye-to-eye

           with the dirt under-

  -neath
those sleepy blue eyes
    of a born-again addict,
      matter-of-fact it
                     to be keen,

a stupid, cupid, love feign
blinded by the coarse..

principle -

a little piece
  of something much bigger,
     belonging to both
                         halves
                           crumbling in rather,
              suddenly, opposing desires
                for an unknown everlasting;

     never-casting
       lines of the unconscious-

   whimpers after a deliberate strike
    bleed so
               much
                  more than
       all the possibility
         of sadness
          in these softened cracks,

     in the subtextual
       slips monopolizing
         our silence;

   possibility  I wouldn't know -

           tell me, babe,
        please tell me when this
                sigh is over

            that you've fallen
                              in
                              in
                              in
                              in
                              in
                              in
                              in
                              in
                              in
                              us

There's a demon there
                     trick'lin down,
                                 trippin' me
                                         and grippin' down.


Think he's under the stairs, now
                             hidin' down there,
                                               spitin' me,
                                                    and bitin' down, there.


So I just sit up top,
        tearin' my hair out,
                 he's scarin' me down there,
                      I can feel him starin' me down.


Bet he won't just up and go away,
                            guess I've plumb forgot how to pray,
                                              plus we far from heaven here,
                                                                         So...
                                                             ...I bet he stay.