Writing to pass the time
To let every mimed moment pass by,
Writing on quarters to make change,
But this would never change anything.
Let me hold you like I stole you
With each glance to the left.
I spoke up but these words fall flat
On some subtle smalltalk about timing
Or how haphazard rhyming could turn my assets into cash
And burn a fire that could control you.
A tinny reflection of red and black light
Was a sea of sequins and close acquaintances,
Unbeknownst to me.
Refreshing and unsettling,
You are the living ghost of what I might have gotten right,
If I could fill the void between parallel lines
Stretched out too far.
And so much of a breath could unrest this house of cards,
But I would pull one every day
If it wasn't a race to get too drunk or be too broke.
The best bluff that I could sell you is the one I haven't spoken.
Gently pressed up against the wall,
I get lost in your rhythm and the whiskey on my teeth
For a whole lot of nothing, off-key humming, grounded feet.
This second pass of reality is a gravity I've had to fear
Now I'm not quite sure how it ever disappears.