Blacked out in blessed blue, dressed up in second skin, determined numbers add up your faults and fears in a crowd of….
Contagious tongues tango on terror with detached cool, running through your fiction to find buried assumptions and tricks intertwined with salicious tales grown on trees watered down with tears on the….
I’m not your happiness. I’m not your misery. I’m not your journey. I’m not your destination. I’m not your story. I’m not your resolution. I’m not your reflection. I’m not your chronology. I’m just your friend. I’m just your brother. I’m just your father. I’m just your lover. I’m just your betrayer. I’m just your jailer, imprisoned by your perception. I’m just your lies told by the words I didn’t speak while you banged your pretty head against a Marble wall of make believe. Lies your desires  lean against, buffered up without the butter, it ain’t so easy to slide inside, but you squeeze through the blood vessels of my conscience, when I let you touch me where it hurts. You know where it hurts. Don’t you dare soothe me away with the sweetness of a kiss when im bitter off the stuff you stir up at a distance. Out of mind, still on sight, and inside my time. Shorter nights draw lots with aspersions, blame the day for the length of your disillusionment, when I’m long gone, we only stray off the edge of reason, when it’s reasonable to take the edge off, the stray light bends our vision backwards and forwards, fallen, foreign gesture, frowned upon, bearer of all the love you can’t handle, dripping, soaking wet love, soured but salted, peppered and roasted, marinated with blood, guts and herbs, boiled up to the match  point and still cooking, on your own, still living on your grey and inglorious feet, stoned on stones, lifted out of jitters, jilted out of laughter that assures contentment, yet love remains the contender that endures the wrath of well endowed fear and justifiable self destruction opposed by the hand that holds yours as tightly as your existence grips my heart.