The pace isn't the same,
I don't know how to do the dance.

It doesn't feel right.
The two of us connected,
like Twizzlers...
waiting to be pulled apart.
Melded together if by accident,
but ill fitting all the same.

I don't like this hold...
counting the seconds until it's over.

I miss his imprint.
I miss his acrobats.

I miss the shape of our twisted bodies,
a smattering of arms and legs like Krishna.

I want to petrify it,
keep it always how it was.

For my records, of course....
just to compare.

The science is behind it.
My own personal form of chemistry.

I want to be under your skin, lying placidly, feeling the rush of your beats around me.
I wish to fall asleep to the rhythm of your breath
the pull of your muscles
the shocks of your nerves.
This relationship has been commandeered by desire, recklessly veering off the path of pleasantries.
Caged and wild, it waits...
Fighting the desire to claw and rip its way to the surface.
To give in is to destroy this ethereal state of what may be.
Only once chance do I have to sink into you, meld us together and adapt to this foreign occupation.
I don't wish to slip
I want to stick
like resin to fingertips...
I wish to stain you and leave you forever marked.
Fear races wildly in my eyes, drives me out of mind but I must keep it cool...
so very cool...
As if just one skittish movement could leave me alone.
could have you leave me alone
I'll play this marionette game, responding to your movements and your impulses.
Eventually i'll be a real person to you, not just another object to play with.
I'll be your shadow my love
Kiss the very ground you walk on
Just see me always...
Don't let the darkness dissipate what this light illuminates.
I want to be under your skin, safe and sound.
I'll stay here.
Waiting...
Patiently...
For you to let me come around.

Penny-less.
Lick it up off Picasso's postcards.
Share this time...

What little we have.
The dance of the deprived,
worshipping the derelict.

Trash.

Call us what you want.
This trash to you is used, *****, and degraded.
A has been.

To us, you are nothing...
Will be nothing.
Until you've handled us,
you'll never know.

You stare with star-struck eyes.
Why, yes
we are those fallen few.

We chose.
No,
life chose us.
Us
to be without.

We're the entitled greats who go without.
All you can do is sneer,
with your veneered smiles smeared.

Go ahead.
You envy us.
I see your as green as the notes in your pocket,
as bitter as the coffee in your cup.

Fill up these hollow eyes...
These two dry sockets, sitting cold like marbles in a divot.
Pour into them.
Look past the shallow pool,
and dive deep into the blackness.
See what I see...
Sink into my vision...
Floating, if just for a moment.
Dead weight,
with arms wide open.

Fill up these hollow eyes,
with penny thoughts and nickel dimed emotions.
Weave the string, and pull me closer.
Entice me.
Tease me.
Tickle my fancy.
Make me chockfull, to the brim.
Then spill me over.

Fill up these hollow eyes,
they **** you in like bathroom drain pipes.
Keeping up the appearances...
watch how they move.
Like the lolling head of a sleeping toddler,
no focus.
Their out of focus.