Love is a burning feeling in my gut
Besieged by fear and retribution
We reduced ourselves to ashes
We are accents and accidents
Rented by teenage time-travelers
On the lonely road to happiness
We are shattered tornadoes
And bruised background checks
We are appetites of coercion
In the hands of any man with a cigarette
We are assassins in the making
And there are always lawyers for the taking
We are the dragons teeth
Eating our own weaknesses
We are revealing images of infinite healing
Hungry for your eyes and immune to stealing
We are sheets of paper baked in an oven
We are the numberless occupants
Of another abandoned apartment building
We are shouting matches and fireplaces
Lit with nimble little fingers
When your hands have become eyes
You are slower to lift them to the sky
So you cover up your secrets
With the fabric of space and time
We shine our strength and our sorrow
When all of it's the same
Both yesterday and tomorrow
Tonight we are appointed
To watch over these sacred grounds
For nothing shall ever happen
If we don't speak it from our mouth
And love is only music
Using language to find it's sound
We are dominant-handed people
Who know too much about your scorn
We are contacts covering translucent corneas
Petrified with doubt and looking inside out
We are always a little troubled
By the thought of being left out

I hear music as i'm drifting in and out of consciousness
We are all lotus flowers in denial of our fingerprints

We are estuaries
And governments
Surfing in the shadows
Of an unknown ocean
Life is a poem
Perfectly spoken
Stolen from antiquity
And woven
Silently on a loom
At the pinnacle
Of one of the earth's
Tallest mountains

Subtle apostrophes seeking apologies
For being seen naked
These commas indeed are angry
Do you fancy delivering me some verbiage
Confessions are standard
And punctuated sentences are evidence
Of the contrarian tendencies you embody
It's a hobby being copied
Making friends with dungaree clad daughters
And seeking sunshine from beneath the cover
Of a worn down copy of someone else's obituary column

Humble hearts leave trails
Of burning arcs
Whenever they pass you by
When time is borrowed
From the present
It's a gift from heaven
If we are born unperturbed
Then how do we learn
To become so boring
After we have grown

If you have it then you’ll know it
For once it comes it's ever showing
Humble hearts are made for rowing
These boats back home again

Come close and sit by the phone
Waiting for the dial tone to call you collect
There are many benefits to a relationship
Like love with tenderness,
Arguments and sweet caresses

Bless the ligaments and the tenements
With tender fingers and ten toes
We've climbed up and over
Reaching further and deeper below
And above all we've rubbed
The words from the pages
That we drew our first breaths upon
And later lined our nests with
The fragilest of exhalations

We are each a painting
Taken from the hall of some old relative
We are fancy felons finding heaven in our theft
We are sheets of cotton rubbing against our bottoms
As feelings flicker like candle flames
Our souls remain nameless and stainless
Against the testaments of yesterday

I sweep the patriotic streets
In need of beauty and feeling
History has a way of dealing with people like us
That can be rough and kind of cruel
His story wavers like a lonely old man
Savoring a cup of coffee in the morning
Or some soup in the middle of the day
We pay attention to the attitudes of companionship
We find memories change course along the way
Our journey meanders but we are safe
To raise our voices in dismay
Whenever I feel we’ve gone astray
You slip your fingers into mine
And say, I'll see you in my dreams
Again someday

Humble hearts leave trails
Of burning arcs
Whenever they pass you by
When time is borrowed
From the present
It's a gift from heaven
If we are born unperturbed
Then how is it we learn
To act as if we are too old
To receive their love again