Grafted to the inside of my eyelids
You shine red in the morning light
everpresent and invading my cocoon of sleep.
But sleep is something I deign to have,
And this smoke filled raunchy cabaret is what I long to have.
It is the idea of you
Your whispering is your genetic blueprint
My map to find you when my demeanor becomes dreary and hopeless.
You are lurking inside every word,
Nestling yourself in the dark irises of my soul.
Take the edge off.
My form of dancing is wasting away before your troubled eyes.
And I am cracked like every greek statue you will ever view in those
posh art museums across countless
Countless meccas of culture
Countless cities that I like to blend with
A sidewalk is a sidewalk
A park bench is a park bench
I am just a passerby
Dissolving into the cover of the concrete trees
And the quaint lights at night.
