As I sat next to you
We looked up and saw a shooting star
And I wished,
I wished for the feel of your head resting against my neck
To become fluent in the language of your eyes
As the night went on
I noticed your head resting against his neck
Whilst becoming fluent in the language of each other’s eyes
But maybe it is worth the suffering
To see the one you love
Find their own light.
I need rent, but how am I supposed to get it paid
with a grand total of eight people in town?
I need space to celebrate my first taste of a private place,
but even as I dance for quarters - dollar bills at best -
I hear Mr. Delaney's footsteps, feel his molester's breath
dancing like a hot hand with its fingers to piano keys
from my shoulders to where my skull sits
on my neck!
His hands on my neck -
I hate this hole, this holler, Cacophony
I'm seeing dreams smash, firsthand,
seeing me swinging hammer
His hands on my neck -
I hate this hole, this holler, Cacophony,
but not like the life I left behind!
what I left behind, what I left behind
grows colds, grows overhead,
grows on me, grows close,
so close to the light that I lose the light
and grow cold, no friends,
no room for remorse, just
four walls, hole of black creeping mold,
a fine home to settle in, to
hate what I left behind,
love I left behind, whole worlds away.
I'm home in this cacophony.
Lets go to psychobabble
just like they do, on the boob
talking in circles, on the circumference
just like, we're gaming noobs
Spiraling down the staircase
I swear, it's not a happy trip
slipping on the oily steps
mayhap ending up, a crip
It's ok, and quite alright
my necktie, way to loose
broken for these many years
with head stuck into
the frayed, defective noose
MAYBE on the lips? Because there I like to interpret bitterness.
Or on the arm? A pair that is not long enough, but enough
to always embrace, dim, nervous.
Or on the neck? The circular ladder, like a rubber tree, and
I was a tapper who could not bring heart to wound there.
Or on the forehead? A thin line of hair, always silent.
"Ah, do not have much guessing," you say, "let me read it,
The old verses of poetry, which I have always kept secret ...
You've made your suffer very clear
In anguish's cutting headlights
You are a fragile deer
Glass organs pop under foot
Your psyche crumbles into dirt
Glass murks reading worse
Than it ever has
It ever has
In this one bedroom den, I'm the wolf
Once I was a scrapyard mongrel
Once you were my wide world
Presently avatar of indifference
You've become a cyclone fence
Every dawn sweet music cedes
Every dusk, must evade sleep
The sands flow like salty water,
Down the thin waist to the opposite ends.
Denoting the passage of time, and punctuating it.
In fragments of the beach, and silicon from the earth.
seconds pulsate, from atomic clocks.
Hourglass sands fall and flow into arbitrary heaps.
Ways of chronology
lost to antiquity.
One must ponder,
Did time flow the same,
for humans before the age of automation?
On the nights you have to leave ill feel the ghost of your breath on my skin in my dreams
Carefully i play the memories of your lips on my lips, my neck, and my chest
The memories of your hands on my hips, my hair, and my wrists
I can hear you say "i love you" and i can feel the "please dont leave me"
I can barely keep my eyes open and when i do all i see is you
Toes curling into the sheets and my fingers curl into your hair and under your chin
I can feel your heart beat against mine and it feels like we are one being
Fit together perfectly