here’s what you were looking for, yeah?
Once again it’s you and me, beneath the dim bare bulb that casts shadows across the most elegant of all our faults and I can’t find one single reason to stay and stare at the bare bricks and their sloppy mortar except that you are here. Would that there were less dirt on the floor and more of it on our sweating faces.
I want to shine an interrogator’s light in your face, hostile, and take back all the truth that is mine, truth that never in a million years should have been bared to you. The clumsiness of it all doesn’t matter, doesn’t even register anymore: I can’t find fault in awkwardness because maybe that’s the only pure innocence left. Maybe it’s the only remaining barrier, too. Your riddles are a dime a dozen. My outrages are, as well.
You can’t have my peace, because I have none. I can’t have your assurances, because you have none. The collective definition we have for impasse is dull and uninspiring. It’s a ghost that sits at the end of my bed and mocks me; nothing I’ve tried to date has chased it away. We are a scream through wired jaws, begging for blown veins and snapping, technicolor happiness.
Always my brain is working overtime without my consent.
Always there are the earthquakes snatching me back to where you say I don’t belong anyway.
Always there is the thought of your eyes begging for rescue and hinting at promise.
Always your lips are on me, probing, you stupid fucker.
6 worked it out »