When Am I Going To See Me Again?
The sumptuous notion of how,
resistance is futile.
Simplicity twists,
further sounds are made.
Cosmetics forgiven,
shiny bright gleams,
super shiny bright things.
Always telling myself how
and why it does this.
Plastic sideboard tears,
the changes occupy a different space.
Let the dreams take over,
remembering the past silently.
Describing the first times,
cleverness drips sense.
The motor’s running.
The distant show of affections
up-lighting monuments @ night.
Significant notification
of the way we treat each other today.
Always remembering and forgetting.
Intelligent acts that can’t go back.
I see the motion of waves
after the dive,
and now we pretend, and drive on,
“I am,” I said. “I’m this.”
I only said lonely once,
and found my apprenticeship,
providing my purse with gold coins.
I’d left the past alone,
a month or so ago.
Confirming our signals to each other,
the gospel according to some
pretty ladies in France;
a massive hate campaign
because you can’t have what you want.
Dismissing ego with age,
frightened bunny jumps.
The bath overflows,
soaking downstairs;
the blood spills over
and I draw lovehearts with each breath.
I take home my face.
Let letters describe
what’s deep inside.
Cool, still, glistening songs,
like crying birds
in the sky, that belongs to all of us
The optimistic level.
Feeling my way through
bananas and ice cream.
I decide to go in,
and lock the door behind me.
Once my finest most powerful dress,
now tatters, in a clothes’ bin.
Let others believe the fairytale.
It might not even have been
if I’d not said anything:
“Big mouth to the rescue.”
Scattered thoughts, but true,
naked, lying next to you.
Asleep my dreamer embraces.
The heavens yell at us,
“Take thy hands off each other,
and go and do some work.”
We listen in our sleep,
but on waking, can’t remember.
Breakfast chimes a morning bell,
jewels in milk, of nature’s gift.
The craftsman and the technician,
carrying on what we think is right.
Steamy hot, awake, and cooking,
butter melts in our mouths.
Potatoes, proud to be lover’s food.
Bowls of everything timed.
Succulent mouthfuls chewed.
Given with pleasure,
eaten hungrily,
ready for more.
The dawn of a lovely new day,
roasting, emotional hotpot.
18.01.01