as the drumline spiels his deal,
his baseless accusations ring
the bell behind your eyes! sing!
mimic his air! your cacophonous snare
shouts like an astronaut on a space-walk

promise! never let the cold take hold
of your reptile brain; you're half unsaid!
why must you let the louder half spread
his legs in ecstasy? you deal in chastity!
who are you? some sci-fi *****?

you can't be saved from your retroflex grave,
so dare to live where no rhyme scheme toes
the line of cosmically acceptable prose
see? nothing matters!  - this jawless chatter
asks "who are you? some cerebral *****?"

"an ugly *****!!!" you might retort
but self-awareness does not absolve
the sins of online vanity; dissolve
me, untrue - drown in pixels green and blue
or wake up
                     in the nothingness
                                                     ­  of the space-walk

i want love with sleep in its eyes,
and when it yawns, and stretches
the bedsheets in a sleepy *****,
whips the night out the window
and breathes out a darling "good morning"

i want love that wears pyjamas,
that smells of stale-ish coffee and toast;
slightly-burned, like it always will be,
but where butter melts, without a protest,
under the spell of a kitchen waltz

i want love next door to lust;
a semi-detached carnal passion
who, once or twice a week, comes for tea,
shares a bottle of wine, and raises a toast
to old times of late nights and later mornings

i want love with sleep in its eyes,
whose forehead rests against mine
with its legs entwined and arms aching;
enraptured in the same embrace
i've grown to fit into so well

lets take a trip;
two pilgrims in eau claire
with bon iver
to make or break
the dam of placid tears;
fill the leery loons a lake!

so let us drink;
this crisp water sings
a tune that brings
us heart to heart;
your slow blink
signals the dance to start

dive in with me;
these pulped sheets of ink
that interlink
so well with skin
hide tired platitudes; for we
write new clichés akin

with you, i live between each heavy second,
between each slow degree we turn,
we could hold our weight with just a gaze,
the weight of withheld gasps for words.