If I could have an ice cream, I’d rather buy two. If I could take a walk, I’d rather go with you. If I could make a home, I’d build it with a view. Large windows while you’re outside so I could stare at you. Whenever I’m alone, dear, you’re inside my head. All the things I’m missing I’d hear from you instead.
Skepticism in its sheath, a proverb donned on me. Judgement come cloud, some lost and some found, repetitious melody. Anticipate their looks, the mile long stares, breeding surreptitiously. Eyes bounce and hang; besieging pack of googlies.
Perplexed by the utility of love - the blunt instrument by which we excuse our higher faculties like better judgement and grace.
Vanished from him across the sea. Drying eyes with salted air, the Northbound man set trade winds free. A raft adrift though lashings taught. Emptying his pockets, scatter rusted keys. He recognized one: strong toothed iconoclast; a head worn. Exchanged tired looks. Escape from safe keeping or so would seem.
A foreign voice, bob and drift yours, further down after years streaming trapped in hesitation. and drown Rusty and broken, winding “This is me,” cries it says. thrashing “This is me,” doppler in effect it agreed.
Like fresh earth, roots settled in; surround me. No clear pictures - how why - rather, a breeze strolled; a hammock rocked; hair wisped over a forehead. Dug into what grounds me.
“Bombs away!” came the bombardier shouting to his captain. “Bombs away.” his captain confirmed low along the horizon. “All that for one person?” came the bombardier, again, though not one to question orders. The captain thought it strange, never one to question openly. “Do you think” -explosions rippled below- “do you think they’ll feel anything?” For the first time, the bombardier wondered. Only silence answered. Bomb a building, a tank, an army, any of many things; they feel nothing. One person, everything.
Thoughts slip and fall. Drops off a faucet, oh, damn indecent of them all. Naked strangers strewn casually about. The world could care. drip Forgive the interruption, a minute at most. Sign the form, and step one toe onto the line. drip However you make your mark. drip Please, step one toe, a harmless piece, into yes, there line and just drip yes, see, drip never so bad drip free
Tired grow the eyes, yet hunger fills the dreams. Seconds dwindle daily while life’s leaves steep. Words I speak fairly, “None too fair, the lives we keep.” In the bottom, the porcelain fine print, you wonder of the tea. To smile sweet; just grudge on, or change indefinitely.
I count all my hair, stinging with electricity, ozone on my sleeve. A peat bog with water waist deep, moss on down the halls. Bouncing a voice long gone, “How do we breathe?” Escaping as we speak. Beautiful words confine me, a misery of mystery. Restless at the seams. A prison so lost friends won’t find me. How does this compare? Another kind of exposure.