Monday, January 23, 2017

Chasing, Facing

Old restitutions I’ve yet to assume
For my unfettered appetite courted its doom
So I tossed out the furniture, lived in this room
            Be a broom, love, and gather my gloom
Sips from a glass where the emptiness won
Like a trip to a memory, circle the sun
All my statements are loaded, but never this gun
            Never run, love, lest you’ve been outdone
Prying away the attached institutions
And leave what you’ve loved, straight to hell with inclusion
My sleight of the heart, I believe in illusions
            Intrusions ask not, love, confusion
Sand turns to glass, I can see through your stone
Thread and the fabric are one once they’re sewn
May we love every comfort, but lust the unknown
            I condone, love, that life would postpone

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