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Mar 2016
Circo nips on the go, the road
no mortgage or roof on the mobile home
Making music with the wind, her curls

I watch it --picture frame the moment with my hands on canvas
memories and dreams are sandwiched
no lettuce,

but the tank lets us cruise with these 6 figure fantasies worry free courtesy a day dream,
Or déjà vu if I could choose, and I chose.

We choose to break the rules so what's on ya mind?

pulled into a rest stop indecent crimes
with a box full of promises tucked in my pocket,
Just know that it will surface but to you I'm not worth it

Just don't cosign the lies that they tell don't sign the doted line or give me that bill --it's all premature don't treat it all like a stillborn,

Still on fact I see you once every 6 months

I figured I was important figured that she could wait now contemplating extortion, how can ways of the selfish out weigh what's important
Cue curtains, hands off canvas

A silent mourn prior to another portrait, she spoke:
"take my body if the last supper"
Pardon myself from my favorite flavor no savoring the savior who can't even save herself or society.

A fleeing dream so I bow my head in homage
no suffering no more, you've painted our last hour
she painted my true colors and the water works are real and the water color dripping from her slits surreal so literal my ******
is it right to call my lord a drug my lord I question your judgment,
Your words your core I judge is war or warmth
or worms, you were she was an apple to sight the but cost of love-- too expensive
shot of Circo now I'm way too aggressive,
I park my home parallel my clone and walk past the Dive Bar where we met regressing psychologically,
eyeing me from another table
her social disciples that follow her and rival my every breath
I take a sip reminded of that flavor, her lips I'm awoke since 3 days after my last fix my vice is her a grip
Who The **** Was That, That walked Pass?!
clashing personalities, flammable as gas I'm corroded
shotgun, empty,
as a weapon with no motive
no navigator-- nor a map to my emotions shes coding I'm losing it,
I'm losing her my portrait
promises are broken I promise my undoing is a loose interpretation I use it for my benefit
clever for I love you
I loathe you makes more sense  
so who am I to judge with an empty box full of promises intended as a tattoo
her legs on the table
I say my final prayer:

"for supper I will have you" wine hold the water I'm prepared for the last stroke.
© 2015 by S Fraz All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of S Fraz
Shaine Fraz
Written by
Shaine Fraz  New York
(New York)   
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