I've been awake for a while.
You have been in stasis.
A bitter slumber,
With burning dreams
My scalded thoughts writhe,
Frigidity is so tempting.
Am I ahead or behind?
I lost interest in this crossroads,
Years before you approached it.
You will stand and search and see,
Finally,
That in this flashy intersection of bodies
There is nothing to explore but what you've already seen in your head.
There will be nobody to talk to
But the corpses of those that never moved forward.
I have felt so much more
On this dusty two laner--
Without the distraction of the blinking lights,
Without the screaming of the thought police,
Without a lust ridden billboard selling supposed truth--
It is so much easier to see the horizon.
It is far more beautiful
Than flesh.
And is more eternal
I would see our fingers
Intertwined like you would see yourself
With as many people.
If that is truly what you want
And this is truly your stop
Maybe it's time I unclench my heart
And let you wander;
It's four in the morning,
And I'm exhausted anyway.
I hope by the time I fall asleep
Your ever-shuffling feet
Will let you find home.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
I've been awake for a while.
You have been in stasis.
A bitter slumber,
With burning dreams
My scalded thoughts writhe,
Frigidity is so tempting.
Am I ahead or behind?
I lost interest in this crossroads,
Years before you approached it.
You will stand and search and see,
Finally,
That in this flashy intersection of bodies
There is nothing to explore but what you've already seen in your head.
There will be nobody to talk to
But the corpses of those that never moved forward.
I have felt so much more
On this dusty two laner--
Without the distraction of the blinking lights,
Without the screaming of the thought police,
Without a lust ridden billboard selling supposed truth--
It is so much easier to see the horizon.
It is far more beautiful
Than flesh.
And is more eternal
I would see our fingers
Intertwined like you would see yourself
With as many people.
If that is truly what you want
And this is truly your stop
Maybe it's time I unclench my heart
And let you wander;
It's four in the morning,
And I'm exhausted anyway.
I hope by the time I fall asleep
Your ever-shuffling feet
Will let you find home.
June 24, written without spite
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