Waiting, like molecules slowed in crisp heavy air,
Like earths rotation has been compromised.
The clock has all but stopped its ticking,
Anticipation alive and writhing, sticking
To the moment before it, sighing
Licks its wicked lips, it’s smiling.
I swear its trying to **** me,
waiting for water to rush
Over and replenish this parched earth
Is like waiting for a cure
The day after death has
Rendered me stiff and ridged.
Riga mortise over and done with.
I wonder how many times
That I can die before
You will warm me with your kiss.
I miss you