Sophisticunt

You who think you're worldly,
not made for the kitchen sink.
Flexing muscles to keep you tight,
till you cock that weapon,
cock it tight!
Politicking like Bill in heat
till he knows that bird will sing -
What a pink lascivious thing!

the scenes i had not seen

I said I loved you.
I grew to covet your skin.
Laying upon the sheets -
the foul stench of passion spent -
I didn't like the liberties
it had seen.

Your body,
no longer a symbol,
defining you
defining me.

Like sin upon which
I claim righteous authority -
I'd stifle the air you breathe,
I'd burn the books you read.

In dreams we acknowledge,
the only) truth of lovers:
that naked in bed, we lay
oh babe!
what else is there?

And those before us,
with whom we shared
our most private moments,
a lover always stays
your lover.

(a white flake, disintegrating)

Everything is a distant memory
when you don't sleep.

Her picture on my screen -
She is silently waiting.

Her smile,
so warm and inviting...

there was something i was supposed to do

Stunted growth, the tar I breathe,
I watch busy bodies starting off their mornings.

I was special once.
There was something I was going to do.

This little engine that could.
With fantasies in place
of daydreams, in place of everything -
even too little too late could have would.

If time is time and time is moving,
choices are habits that keep pace with you.
We live by the ones we make, then quietly fade
while people go about their day.

There was something I was supposed to do,
but this engine never moved.