Love is a witch’s favorite broomstick
Congratulate your lingual frenulum
For it's offerings are very underrated
Your legs linger on my body hypostatically
Shall we make this tragic magic last
A little longer than is completely necessary
For pleasure is a purpose worth fulfilling every night
Humid lines arise upon our eyes
As the rain defines our fantasies
Underneath the sky it's dry
Until our cries seed the clouds with beauty and tyranny
In between sirens and syntax
Our shadows are absent minded raindrops
Funding designer headlines and retirement parties
Abated hangovers decry
That there is no longer any use  
In hanging around where we are not wanted
So we say goodbye to our pilots in a dutiful skyline
Confused voices meander fluidly by
As drunken longings feed the stars their flesh
We share strategies with the morning
It's up to you to attempt to deny this
Do we cry for those caged lions and tigers
Or for our own fragile sense of nakedness and separation
When life is dressed in desperation
Perhaps tonight we’ll finally get it right
Though we’ll never see the end to life
We so desperately need to make assumptions
That define our relationship to space
For we have yet to face our faulty tendencies
To try and encapsulate grace
Though the emptiness escapes our fate
If they are only present due to faith
Throughout the day I can taste
Measurements of movements in their wake
We laugh for days while our place holders are at stake
The less you know for certain
The more likely you are to get away with it