primitive

Touch skin out and in

Thin

Tough break

Make it real, make me feel

You

Taste touch stare

Floating on air

Too slow to begin

Too quick to end

Again

Again

Again.

don't stop

Fucking

Life of a fugitive

Staring straight ahead

Get inside, do things to me

Your pure heart too rough for mine beating

Pump pump pump rhythmic

Nature is a timebomb ticking eggshells too fragile

Me

Too quick to step

Inside mind

Around a clown of ups and downs to ins and outs of you

Fulfill

That thrill

Of a still life.

canned

Can’t

Won’t

Stop.

Longing, missing, waiting, wishing.

Instead

I

Continue. Forge on. Sure, I am.

Make it right, baby, make it true.

satisfy

Two steps from the edge I will

Take the plunge

So surreal

Makes it close, too close

Swirling whirling nothing happiness twisting turning

Burning

For more.

Red

Not quite too delicious for this life

Not quite too light to take a swift bite

Out

Of an apple

Cored to the quick

Lick

That juice right off of your fingers

Here in neverland

That juice never made

Such a difference

too you

Lying in bed again I stare at the wall

Glance at the window, giggling

Selflessness right side up in my belly

Heaving with weight of

Spaghetti and scones.

Ireland has a funny way of fucking with your psyche.

And I can’t stop thinking of home

I can’t stop thinking of you, again,

You

With your silhouette

And your dirty hands and stiff fingers wrapped

Tapped

Zapped, zapping

My insides

Quick like a rabbit and swift like a knife

(I’ve run out of excuses for this one)

pondering some

i wish these encounters weren't so awkward

we both know what the other is thinking but

neither of us is making a move.

make it.

 i know you might roll your eyes at this/but i'm so happy you exist.

(i know lots of strange people. does that make me just as strange? okay.)

but i know traffic lights and subway trains

and city streets and picket signs

and two cups of coffee staining the linoleum

make some part of life worth living. 

(this is the part where you talk and i listen. i'm good, you know.)

that man on the corner

the one with crazy eyes and crazier hair

he just asked for some change to buy an ice cream cone and

one time i handed a leftover sandwich to a guy asking for spare change

and i realized later that i did it in hopes that you

one of you

might see it.

i wish that stupid thoughts and irony

could become as valued as

the honesty i'm searching for.

where?

here, there, everywhere.

(gimme shelter)

just tell me what you're thinking because

like i said before

it probably matches all these

petty pretty silly little thoughts 

rattling

around

in this brain of mine.

amongst the lists of emails and phone calls and stories

i have

loose change

thoughts

building up waiting to be spilled

to the first one who asks.

(you asked, once, and i said i was thinking about a lot of things. you didn't pry. i wanted you to.)

help me out make me shiver make me pout 

help me out make me discover what it feels like

really feels like

to be with another.

one of you. any one of you.

(make a move. i would, but i'm old-fashioned. even though you wouldn't expect it from the likes of me. i'm always a surprise, you'll see.)