You came sauntering back
melancholy and deadly all in one
scilltillating package of poet.
Your lips were full of magic
like collegan but far more corpselike
You dropped suggestions about you and I
like copies of rolling stone
(you always were a curious nonconformist)
on the cold, wet floor of our coversations.
You said that you like it here
despite the hostile climate
and spontaneous combustion of new confusions.
we've grown up with that though;
it's a game of hopscotch for us
just move your feet right and it'll be over soon
but be sure to get back in line
over and over again and again
you cry for me, without tears,
(because they require something leaving
the sanctuary of your head)
with lemon and ice on the side
still leaving me numb and sour
you whisper sick thick poetry
just quiet enough for me to know you love me
but never hear your voice
that's the way you like it though
me at your floudering chaotic will
but still shouting my freedom from moutaintops
it's the dramatic irony you crave
and i am a most beautiful source
they say it's really all in the presentation anyway...
doesn't matter how she tastes....

10/08/2001

Posted on 10/08/2001
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