November 28, 2010

making the squares squirm


there is no way to say
what it is i want to say
there is no way to say
what it is you need to hear
or what i want you to know
about all the times in between
first meeting you
first loving you
first touching you
all that time and space
the words are not enough
they are all i have
they are all i need
to keep my memories
buried deep inside a lonely heart
that loves the isolation and comfort
strangers bring
you and i know this well
sitting on bar stools
in dive bars all over these cities
of grit and dust
so dirty and seedy are our lives
staring at shining bottles of alcohol
back lit by neon and white
the hues of our estranged existence
talking with shady eyes of desolation
we should have gone to the desert
you should be here now
having coffee with me
smoking cigarettes
making the squares squirm
in that greasy spoon in my village
where the bacon was somewhat burnt

its not your place
in this hispter city
of roses and me
i stand on that corner
a nexus of memories
of sunflowers
last minute winners
drunk and singing
the sun would rise later
and set soon after
on a love you did not want
i can only remember
deep in me there is you
deep in me i know
we should have gone to the desert
where the desolation of isolation
could have given our grit
fuel for a fire
that would not consume us
but today i am alone
drinking this coffee
when you should be here
smoking cigarettes with me
making the squares squirm
as we live out our debauchery
from bar stools in dive bars
where the neon and white
lights up the desolation
in our eyes
some love
our love
is lost in the time
we spent together
all that time and space
of first seeing you
of first touching you
loving you
its all i have in these words
i write
when i cannot say
what i feel
what i need you to hear
today
we should be getting breakfast
smoking cigarettes
making the squares squirm

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