August 11th
How am I so smart to endure my head's turns or locks inside a box.
With some worth forgetting.
My erecting
inessential to come, we've all waited.
The diet of cowards.
The invisible exercises in...
New Guinea
New York
Japan
France
Gaining
Exonerated
Senators.
Wives.
Daughters.
Over years or weeks.
A lot to hold in. I'm here.
A lot to hold on to.
A pint.
Three.
Jigger.
Fly into roses, Broken Wing Heartache.
Later on...
It is only one small amount of sweat.
A pool filling and shifting with each of my breast's breaths.
Now maybe I can tell myself why I care.
It is you.
A leg paler.
A chipped smile.
A new thing with nothing shamed.
Time for a movie.
A bright future.
Fuzzy dream.
Picture you and I waking.
Picture the naked light.
Witness your hollows.
Amount short.
Void transaction.
Pay once.
Enter the transaction void.
Two beers and one or just one shot of one fifty one later...
Do the days go by and call your name?
No they don't register a mood.
A look see.
A look see reveals all of these new found memories.
But our memory is low and hazy.
Baby.
Oh beautiful showmanship, tell me...
Of love.
Of youth.
Of my eyes.
My hair.
My unbroken bones.
My perfect *****
My golden hair.
My tan.
My ability to hold and stay
not too warm or dry
not too cold or wet.
Your tomb.
Undisturbed.
And now I wait.
For you to warm.
Oh it is you.
Only you.
I will recite also.
In regrets of my open heart.
Strange that father holds his chest in staples later than I.
I spoke of you.
To blood ancient and blood to see.
You know.
Or you don't.
I.
Here in new clothes.
Waiting beside the museum.
Under the cold window.
For you to interfere.
As close as I am.
And then you apperceive.
Love.
You appear love.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 9:04 PM UTC
August 11th
How am I so smart to endure my head's turns or locks inside a box.
With some worth forgetting.
My erecting
inessential to come, we've all waited.
The diet of cowards.
The invisible exercises in...
New Guinea
New York
Japan
France
Gaining
Exonerated
Senators.
Wives.
Daughters.
Over years or weeks.
A lot to hold in. I'm here.
A lot to hold on to.
A pint.
Three.
Jigger.
Fly into roses, Broken Wing Heartache.
Later on...
It is only one small amount of sweat.
A pool filling and shifting with each of my breast's breaths.
Now maybe I can tell myself why I care.
It is you.
A leg paler.
A chipped smile.
A new thing with nothing shamed.
Time for a movie.
A bright future.
Fuzzy dream.
Picture you and I waking.
Picture the naked light.
Witness your hollows.
Amount short.
Void transaction.
Pay once.
Enter the transaction void.
Two beers and one or just one shot of one fifty one later...
Do the days go by and call your name?
No they don't register a mood.
A look see.
A look see reveals all of these new found memories.
But our memory is low and hazy.
Baby.
Oh beautiful showmanship, tell me...
Of love.
Of youth.
Of my eyes.
My hair.
My unbroken bones.
My perfect *****
My golden hair.
My tan.
My ability to hold and stay
not too warm or dry
not too cold or wet.
Your tomb.
Undisturbed.
And now I wait.
For you to warm.
Oh it is you.
Only you.
I will recite also.
In regrets of my open heart.
Strange that father holds his chest in staples later than I.
I spoke of you.
To blood ancient and blood to see.
You know.
Or you don't.
I.
Here in new clothes.
Waiting beside the museum.
Under the cold window.
For you to interfere.
As close as I am.
And then you apperceive.
Love.
You appear love.
