while others dream she lies curled in her shell a snail of underwear and eyelashes with each blink the blue glow shimmers on her eyes reflecting a calm sea that used to know fire
but where is the tempest? where did the grasping groping clutching fingers lose their way through her hair they were supposed to arrive by now while the figures wait shrouded and distant at the bus stop
is it possible to light a match that has already burnt out?
I want to dance until my feet go sore my anklets break free and I faint on the floor.
I want to sing until I lose all my senses my lungs tear apart and my larynx comes to a screeching halt.
I want to laugh until tears pour out my eyes the darkness around me gets dissolved in my laughter's floodlights and all the existing walls shatter and break by the sound of my guffaw.
I want to be like that singing dancing laughing, mad woman whom we like to stop and watch, shake our heads in disapproval and then secretly think –
In the high sky Where the air is weak And full of strangers Nothing lives for long Only gypsy-footed drifters Come here on their way To who knows where
And this place can only be reached Without anchor or rudder Nor even a moral compass Riding on clouds of smoke And it's such a long way down Through falling-about laughter And blood in the gutter
Speak, as if you know what you are saying. Let it roll off the tongue, ******* like a Dung-beetle's ****, and let me drink it up like a lapdog. It tastes like heaven from where I sit, not by comparison, but lack of.
there are echoes in his shadowed clouds thunder and rain drops falling from the sky he says he loves me but I dare not ask why
I share my dreams so detailed it seems
they're made up things
he has seen me lie so I tell the truth
until it echoes e c h o e s like how my eyelids open
to the sound of thunder to the sounds of my mistakes
he shakes the wake of my existence holds no pride in his resistance
teaches me to be true in all that I do
even when
staying up late nights I explain to him what it is I write regretting nothing forgiving fights
the words mean more than nothing because the confusion of our illusions that we can't believe in drop like rain they drop like rain
singing pain in the untold thoughts that mean more than the washed up shore that had tidal waves (untold graves) seashells sea ringing (the hells are singing)
so don't stop bringing your music, your art the love we have not yet torn apart