—a dance of passion.
fire colors my existence
heat igniting surrealist tendencies
(yet somehow you’re still here
when i wake) that are just shy
of the highest nonsense.
what i’d wish to be our
favorite song fills the air
sickly saccharine.
i long to join
you in this fantasy ball
but all i can do is
watch from
a distance.
the lights dim, the fiasco begins—
i dream of a date with disaster.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment