My sense of responsibility
for you, is weak
And though the sun
may peak
Her bright and shiny head,
I am four steps from dead
with whiskey in throat
striking up a winter laden band.
One hand over my eye
and another open in the dark.
Through the city harbor
blind cat ropewalker
down to the skylit charmer
into wounded arms
and gaunt and weary couches
I am wilting away.
With your breath hot on me
sedating my needs
like I sedate and taint you-
But suffocate, suffocate
Disintegrate and fascinate
all my childish fantasies
of being pressed into the trees
pressed into the dirt,
Your hips slipped between
a little exposed thigh.
Pressed and suffocating-
under your weighted throb.