Something like a tear,
but unseen.
Runs out between;
our space.
Tracing the clouds
from our silver lining.
To a feeling that
is in need of defining.

I wish to write
before feeling takes
flight.
But I fear it will
be a love song.
As if the world needs
another one of those.

Ruining out of ways
to say the same things
in my prose.
Trying to be dry.
But getting the
words out;
has me on tiptoes.

Sweating words;
pores full of metaphor.
not knowing if I
even make sense anymore.

It's not deception,
but it, I cannot believe.
These truths transmitting,
time permitting,
will crush me flat.
I'm not sure what to think,
in the fact's bull-rush.

Screaming out.
Damming it to be,
cardboard scenery.
In sincere
secrecy.

With a dash of nothing,
spicing the world.
Give me a kiss; no,
give me a twirl.
Splicing the word-weary
and thought-Leery.
Such fresh *******.

Screaming out.
Damming it to be,
cardboard scenery.
In sincere
secrecy.

Don't bother to think, speak or share.
Tomorrow doesn't care.
Not a glimmer of smile,
a whisper of a laugh,
to selflessly share.
Tomorrow doesn't care.

With unbound marching malice,
we're all swept away.
A scathing truth,
leaving surgical scars.

All our thoughts, dust in a sqaul.
Answering tomorrow's call.
With bow tied words,
a flash of a lier's teeth
and mind's growing small.
We will answer tomorrow's call,

With unbound marching malice,
we're all swept away.
A scathing truth,
leaving surgical scars.

Oh, an image's sweet deceit.
Mirror refracted reference
of truth; incomplete.
Full of speaking,but;
Silent now in meaning.

As every proud cloud,
hangs heavy in parallel.
In each lie's dowry.

Carbon bleak black streets.
Night bitten breezes blowing.
With countless; lonely heartbeats
Car lights speeding.but:
Not a sound is speaking.

As each lithe light,
Travels a blinding path.
But only, to be lost:
swallowed by the night.

Rote, just for you.
I can't help but
bear repeating.
What's gone cold,
is worth reatheating.
Speech is there,
in silence it drowns.
All I do is,
think and stare.

An eye for an eye,
across the room.
Or should it be;
A you for a I,
and I for you?

Alfredo Alfresco was born
In tesco's,
Right by the self service
Checkout.
It's an act from beyond.
(God's always been, well,
A bit peroxide blonde)
As to why,we haven't
Enough much information
To say.
After all, meanings can
Move in a mysterious way.