your skin creates peace inside me creating wrinkles in time i find myself constantly longing to feel you close for us to create friction between gravity our inertia to propel us into voids of pleasure nothing between us is what i desire but when you deny me black holes devour me crushing my guts into pulp bleeding me with your rejection i blend till i am nothing from what i began
Might we not linger Longer here a while Within this silken web we've woven All yester's threads cling soft The spindle, rusted & golden, lies This finifugal hold dead hopes oft have Time's sinews blinkering prospecting eyes Might we not linger Convenience sighs
No extra-time or after parties, just a head-spinning rattle from itching frustration to breathless incredulity at the pace of it all
So please, by all means saunter, dance, crawl, or wriggle as the situation demands, although sometimes you’ll still kvetch at slow walking goons in the supermarket and want to crack the back of their heads and educate them about trolley etiquette and getting the heck out of your important way
Try to love pastoral pauses, either in your mind’s green eye or if lucky, in a glade as real as bark and river pebbles where cousins, lovers, friends, pendulum on rope swings to an abandoned splash
A bloodless carnage bleeds our roots. The invisible shadow prowls around. A morbidity hammers in; An obsession aches with despair. Entangled in enigmas, dreams shudder; A helplessness mocks the inertia. An awkward acceptance creeps in, But the uneasiness can't escape.