I find it too uneasy
to lose myself
painting pleasure maps
on your back
with my tongue

touching east and west
until the needle
draws sweat and tears
from deepest south
to hush my mouth

but the point is
never made
for that north face
bleeds abstraction
misdirecting its attraction

and I never thought
to be taken seriously;
for a minute there it seemed
I'd lost my senses
of self, perspective, humour

I can only go on
laughing at myself
for so long
before the treasure is buried
as wishful thinking

02/27/2013

Posted on 02/27/2013
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