Darling, I'm addicted to you
And this love we never knew.
Dear, our story's nothing new,
Its as old as rhythm and blues.
Maybe you're whats waiting for me
At the bottom of this bottle.
Darling, when I saw you I fell,
Far past the depths of hell
Into the beautiful cell
Fashioned by your love spell.
No one else can bring
Me to my knees without a battle.
Darling, you're something to behold,
With that music in your soul.
Dear, you're full of tales untold
And passion uncontrolled.
Maybe you're what's waiting
For me at the bottom of this bottle.
Darling, I love you,
Plain and true.

(Monday morning, on the roof of an Oslo construction site.)

~

Seagull. Filthy peace flag screaming
His own name upon the city.

It is I! Eater of scraps, leaver of
Droppings!

Sword beak, dagger tallons!
Anti-raven! White blood cell of

Your airborne bloodstream.
The skies would be half a chess

Board in my absence!
I sit on the rooftop drinking water,

Listening to him echo between
Tired buildings.

Norwegian city morning.
Sunny and cold.

I watch the red of mist muffled light
On his wings as he soares towards

The bay for his fifth breakfast.
Today will be an interesting day,

I whisper to my soul as I empty the
Bottle and stand up.

A conductor tapping his baton against
His note stand, raising hands and an

Eyebrow to the orchestra.
Get your Monday in tune, and the week

Will follow accordingly.
Seagull. Filthy peace flag.

Declaring himself victorious
With his every forceless breath.

~