Let's Get to Know Each Other.

I feel that this happiness is a trick,
I could not
have been so good as to have deserved what I am getting.
I am getting
elation
and comfort that I have never felt before.
I’ve longed for this, but somehow I know
it will be gone one day.

I have yet to feel welcome in my hands, yet to feel cold, warm, or
of that body temperature, so perfect

nakedness is the only
manner to experience it.
You
are warm to me, something foreign in idea and practice.
More and less and understood in the tongues that you speak,

Baja waits for me.
There’s no need for the blanket that I carry called dishonesty.

I don’t know the things that you see in me because you are beautiful, I am

the pallor of the clouds that cast shadows on my
skin.

I wondered the answers, born from questions, lessons of the lifeguards risks.
Newborn curiosity, it makes my dreams seem irrelevant, insignificant, less than anything.
Removal from being, hidden underneath the floorboards because we have no rugs, no

one here likes rugs.
Beyond that, however you are following me to the grave that have yet to dig for myself.
I have dirt underneath my fingernails, yet as I concentrate so hard on my words distorting them.
Weakening the soul of the gift that I was given.

My mind is a wash, a flood basin for what I’ve wanted yet let slip the the bones of my hands that hold the things that I have managed to keep.
Fingers broken, left for the time to tick by, the clock is slowing, laughing as the bodies, they dance.
The porches are
ballrooms for skeletons, for the skeleton that we’re to become.

The dust settles upon the routine we make for ourselves, to be choked on.
I’m choking on the bones of the meal that I’ve yet to finish, the time is changing.

It is only staccato, the beat stops, goes, slows,
eight counts
one and two and three and stop.

Leaps and bounds away from what I used to be
Life’s become seductive, sex pouring from the most innocent
of it’s aspects.
I am bleeding requisition
Spending too much time in the Sun.

I’d like to apologise for what I thought
was a truth.
The wood of the floorboards is buckling underneath my skin, and
the blood in my eyes is flowing to my heart again.
Time will tell the benefits
of an effort that I am likely to regret, and the emptiness
of what I knew
must be compensated.
Driving home is just driving
when home is where the heart is.

I love what you tell me, I love the speeches that they never televise,
and the blatant love
that we try and hide, or
it could be that I fathomed to be true.

Escape my grasp now that you can see the bones in my fingers
and the echoes in the creases of my forehead.
Run while you can, I am so enticed by your desire to leave and cannot say
that I am surprised, I love you as much as I say. No one can say that they love you
as much as I do, although
I love you very little. I cannot see my eyes closed.
The whites have turned grey from the lack of light and what seems to me to be a
lack of effort that I have put into living.
Everything now is more effort than I’d have hoped for.

I have been driven to the next extreme. I have not blamed anyone, at least not outwardly. To be honest, I believe that this may be the only thing that I can say, that I have 100% control over. Needless to say, it has been a disaster.

The words you want to say stick to your lips,
you are not the most poignant and I am all too critical.

Your presence makes me weak in my ambitions and I’d like to sacrifice myself.
For what it’s worth, I’ll make an entrance, and the soirées and the midnight meetings
and kneeling on bathroom tiles so that
you
tell me I’m beautiful, because, you’d never tell me that now…

I have the desire to take your words as mine, and I have restrained. It makes my legs shake to think of what we do, what I have done. I keep my eyes open to your skin, and it scrapes me clean of innocence, and I fathom you to be a gentleman.