How much longer before I’m taxed o’ these acts o’ crap? Before I’m bored o’ the calling words of awed syntax? Play the game or give it slack, deliberately avoiding space to step on cracks in the concrete. Round and down, hit the ground, struck off, ripped from the conditional umbilical, repeating do we have an accord m’Lord, my spine, is aching from concentrating and the circles of lawful courting form. Getting old, but ain’t age nothin’ but a number born and I slumber-see, and it’s you.
Secrets to the boy with multicultured pearl aphrodisiacs, I have the cure to eradicate massive sin en masse, I can make your crying heart sing, but you won’t let me in, smoothen the scars shining like diamonds scattering across the small of your back, puncturing skin where your wings used to be, spectrums of fear where your limitations hung listlessly, dislocated from a noose, let me invite you to the den in my sycamore tree.
It’s a cold icicle to touch, a hard chapter to follow, a hollow heart that doesn’t bleed, breathe, speak, you didn’t miss much, in fact, hardly any thing at all, only that he stands tall, but it’s me who has more time to fail in one fault, false swoop, ants biting at the shackles at my ankles on my once happy dancing feet, wishing for home, home, home and sleep, sleep, sleep.
You’re alluring from a distance in artistically sectioned barracks, I apportion you the blame, don’t come any closer I might drive you insane, you might be maimed by my assertive remarks, merks and smirks because in an instant for instance, you have me falling from pious innocence, from my secure existence where angels reign. And I don’t like it. I don’t need a sidekick. I need some glue, the kind that holds and protects and sticks to me like I stick to you.
Wanting more of the folklore but you keep me stalling, I don’t have any choice in how we’re rolling, wagon wheels snapdragon into barren deserts, a mirage hauls us underneath covert cavorting, converting vixens in lipglossed smiles and skirts helping them to unbutton your shirt, my chest drops through my ribcage as you dish out the dirty hurt.
Can’t help yourself, proof is always in the pudding, I should be your sugared frosting, I wish you didn’t have the need to visit a mock princess palace undercover tasting the poisoned chalice, making knowing decisions tantamount to conscious malice and then you attempt to dazzle the ace before defacing it with a linguistic mace in a mean place, That’s just feisty, mate, I state and you contemplate your discombobulated state.
We used to dance the Argentine tango, sultry, breathless, you were collapsing my space, and it laced and paved the way for our freedom to escape.
If Cain couldn’t contain his rage how am I able to withstand unstable labels, twisted hands that rock empty cradles, slave to silent ravens inside my mind, life isn’t like the lion, the witch and the wardrobe but I hear you roar proud under your shroud of multifaceted piano keys and reversed metronomic beats, you are the ecclectic in my esoteric city, yearning for your learning I would pay with sterling but you’re like a dime they say, I don’t care for pretend curling tongues that wag amongst the clay pigeons.
It was not your fault stellar child of lemon’d lime, blinding my sixth sense intuition with your clever mime, handcuffing me with your smile of crime, reeling me into your Pandora corner one-time had me boxed and locked up quicktime, trapped and all shook-up this time, blessed with fated snake eyed luck, silly babbling I became unstuck, I just wanted us to be mine, spell bind me with your glowing corona, I was too easily eclipsed and gullible, falling for each and every sparkling syllable.
I can see clearly now that it was just a tryst, to see if I crossed everything on your accentuated checklist, I was just game for you to see if you could do this, so easy for you to melt bergs into a line of submissive chicklets, tripping on not knowing me from Eve, striking out my angel wings as I tried to leave, I bob and you weave a web of deceit, injecting minds with formaldehyde but I hide and seek you still in defeat and it’s ridiculous when once it used to be so sweet.
Squinting and contradicting light stings the insightful sight of my eyes, took a while to realise the event of my demise, I thought you had my ghost in your I’s but your ego was too get-go to materialise, but it happily strives for something I apparently cannot provide. Hard work staying alive, breathing and ish, don’t know how you do it. I wish one day you could read this. You give me rushes and blushes of crushes I didn’t think could be in my hushed wishes, you’re a dream, on my page I paint your picture with words, only way to make you real, but in effect it’s OCD surreal, like Isa with hindsight at the Last Meal, don’t you feel me, can’t you steal and heal me please, it’s not a one-way street, I’m here to pick up the pieces, peace by piece.
Permission for intermission denied, an influx of electrical negative energy pulses through my veins, in a silent semantic attack, a lack of active symbiotic synergy causes a strange symmetry in identity, you guessed it, again and again, life played out on a microscope slide, the imagery kills me when our worlds collide.
Flickering analogue wipes like a chalkboard of white noise in my mind and you have no idea. Eyelashes intertwine repetitive pictures, the same feeling after red wine or meow, but how about we do like this now, live carbon fibres embroider the air with chain stitch, turning innocence into an experienced witch with a kiss of disordered kitsch and devilish malice, I wanted a niche, please, get back down on your knees, and pray you find a way to transcend the disarray so you can stay.
You don’t need, to explain about the snow and the skis, or the birds and the bees, and the skies and the seas, you’ve seized me, I cease, to be me, you need to tell me how to proceed since we are in each other designed, defined, confined. Release me from this trapped trellis of disease, caught up like a genie, sand in an hour-glass lasting as long as an elephant’s memory, no shame in crying, give me another line. My baby shot me down resounds in sound bytes about my head, rest your sleepy mind on my heart love, it’s all a part of the desired effect.