Its getting about that time
that we all switch pictures
define ourselves in some new way
write plays about the years we didn't pay attention to whilst in them.

She glows.
Shifts in the distance like shifters do
mirrors the parts of me I cling to
splices in the new shade of blue

that some commoners cooked up one summer

I want to move like you do
I want to follow a tune that you grew
up out of that dangerous mouth of yours

I want to slip in unnoticed into your background
I want to leave you in the wake of a spellbound
insomnia silvia nightgown.

I'm a remix of secret decisions
that I would love to let you and your friend in.
Take the tour of the wicked and old sins
that I wrote when I worked for the lived-in.

But she's still staring loudly at the floor.
Forgetting what project I wrote for.
Forgetting what score I produced.
Forgetting why I haven't noosed myself quite yet.

She shifts in the distance like shifters do,
mirrors the parts of me I cling to.

I've succumbed to the fact that I am not good.

That I am some sadistic crusher of dreams, fates, wonder.

I am thus, I do thusly.


I am a destroyer of dreams.

Of all those good things.

A crusher of moths.


Foaming at the mouth.

Drooling at the prospect of all at once.

The want.

The need.

The cake and the presence of cake.


You look at me.

Sad.

Pathetic.

Endearing in being so weak.


The conquering of the mountain of you.

Done.

Complete.


I am the master here.

I win the game.

Every game.

Pick a game.

I win.


Everywhere I go

I can get you.

Have gotten you.

Could drop you and get you again.

Could craft an army of You's.

Them's

Us's


The luck of being the shade that I'm looking at currently.

So finite a selection of people.

Raise your glass to that if anything.

Enjoy the ride while you're on it.


At least be conscious of it.

Set yourself apart in that way.

Impress me with your special qualities.

Make me notice you.

Don't lose my interest.


I grow bored.

I’m obsessed with drowning you out,
of pushing your head under water
of choking the life out of this,
for fun.
For kicks to the ground,
for rocks in the gutter,
for some desperate need I have to ruin you,
to ruin this,
to **** it before it kills me.

The world pours in.
I wake to my morning coffee.
The cream of that idle Tuesday,
The wakefulness of regret.
Flashbacks to appointments I would have missed,
had it not been for this stupor.
Mulling over what activity to engage in,
the clock strikes never-mind.
So I fall back into my sheets,
stomach churning from hunger I can't quail
and work I can't get.

She's wiggling her fingers in her throat.
Got something caught back there;
some words she spoke.
But I'm not sure I want her to bring them back up
So I let her choke on them.

Give me a ring, to slip off my finger.
It moves to my right hand.
I move to my right hand.
and you raise your right hand at me.

I'm gracefully losing my mind.
Watching it spin in real-time.
Letting it crawl down my backside

Shiver me tenderly, Valentine.

I'm tripping up my own deceptions.
I'm writing more on human perceptions.
I'm living down, giving up screen time.
I'm pouring out more of your dream wine.

Well, what of my cynical rhyme?
What of my weekend romance?
What if my color-filled prime - tickled me pink as the springtime?

I'm tripping up my own deceptions.
I'm writing more on human perceptions.
I'm living down, giving up screen time.
I'm pouring out more of your dream wine.

Shiver me tenderly, Valentine.