Skies are blue (mine black)
and Time is running out
I cannot convene what I lack
So remember when we were young:
We loved everything we had
Lover, sweet flower, my night,
stay — for only you have seen
what nobody else would:
my hate, my hate, my hate —
such tempestuous vogue
Did you not insinuate you were mine?
Wish I could film your first frenzy,
lock it up in me for all eternity
Oh — what would I be without my mania?
Searching for littleness, incensed,
irked by the red-headed duck
sitting so silently under his melancholy
Beside me is Tomorrow, so ready
in her proactive initiative —
burning morning with each lingering
Fine wine, like brine, saturated
in fragrance of freesia,
a bouquet of bougainvillea,
lemon and lime — all this scent I leak
but not enough for you to seek
Will I be similar the next day
as I begin to frown like a clown?
They took my sanity and instilled
some submissive substance into me
What have I done with today?
Crashing like wild waves,
drop by drop, was it you I saved?
Sunday, September 30, 2012, 11:03 – 11:48 PM