so i got these emotion things
i don't quite know how to express
when every face i see
is yours
with some odd personality
conceal'd by eyes a milky-hazel.
there's some reason you are
the end vowel in CATO,
there's some reason you're
only five lines long.
we found in passing mutual interest
trump'd by your own,
and you squander'd my time.
it's late now, and
the dead Greek's guitar
weeps after learning
hands which once graced it
would never again caress.
after a minute,
i follow'd in a
wake left by fleeting feet,
in attempt at egress, but
our beautiful mountain was gone.
i don't sleep these days,
i wouldn't credit you,
the devil went to bed with us
and he sleeps pretty good.
no, i wouldn't credit you.
credit due this silent machine
of mathematics and neuro-electric rhythms,
sparking, igniting,
some neuroleptic response
as i lapse in paradox.