I paused to think, but there was no pause.
Incessant chatter from the dark synapses
Pooling my thought to and fro
Some delicious skin or sweet tender tear
From an eye not mine but I feel it.
Skin and tone, hot cold.
"All the while I think of you"
But it's a fucking circus in here at times.
Lions eating flesh, snake strike, lemon meringue,
Soft peaches, stone cold.
This is all buzzing in here.
Warp drive, ion particles, and dark matters of the heart.
I'm not alone but am.
I'm living on the edge of this movie that I star in but never see the main character.
Some kind of black out selfie.
Another life each day and no need at all for shouting.
But I will, I'm old.
I search the old magazines I've stored here.
I try to find reason, to explain that moment
When death will certainly stop
Everything. A single line, a thread to be snipped.
It'll float away sometimes tangled in someone else's memory.
But there it will be. I might be cold. Stiff. Rotting.
I may inspire but no, not.
There will be another thought. Not. Mine.
Somewhere out there in nothing
I won't be.
I'm okay with that.
I'll kiss, sulk, rage, spit, shit, dance, and love for now.
For an eternity in my head.
Nothing cold.
Just life, thought, and the pursuit of being alive.
Incessant chatter from the dark synapses
Pooling my thought to and fro
Some delicious skin or sweet tender tear
From an eye not mine but I feel it.
Skin and tone, hot cold.
"All the while I think of you"
But it's a fucking circus in here at times.
Lions eating flesh, snake strike, lemon meringue,
Soft peaches, stone cold.
This is all buzzing in here.
Warp drive, ion particles, and dark matters of the heart.
I'm not alone but am.
I'm living on the edge of this movie that I star in but never see the main character.
Some kind of black out selfie.
Another life each day and no need at all for shouting.
But I will, I'm old.
I search the old magazines I've stored here.
I try to find reason, to explain that moment
When death will certainly stop
Everything. A single line, a thread to be snipped.
It'll float away sometimes tangled in someone else's memory.
But there it will be. I might be cold. Stiff. Rotting.
I may inspire but no, not.
There will be another thought. Not. Mine.
Somewhere out there in nothing
I won't be.
I'm okay with that.
I'll kiss, sulk, rage, spit, shit, dance, and love for now.
For an eternity in my head.
Nothing cold.
Just life, thought, and the pursuit of being alive.
