|
"I don't want to be crazy anymore;"
Not within toffee-brown walls or angry
self-contemplative abuse.
She's not even asking me--
not even asking for a dance;
not for time to steal a wicker basket full of lollipops and rainbows.
"if you're asking…"
she's wanting a slow one.
"if you're asking.."
I can't watch them pull it apart;
pull it from the 18 years of training
on
how to pull yourself apart.
He's opening his arms out to sleep
across wood-polished squares with the next best
thing.
And she's shuffling to the thud of syncopated ink
and paper.
"I'm not asking you to please me"
I'm asking for a world that revolves inside you.
asking for a hand thrown into the air
and an exploding...
an explosion.
I'm asking for pain.
"But do you want to take it this far?"
We'll go out into the middle of breath.
Well go abroad to scatter pieces of us among the reflection of strobes and mirrored-balls.
Only,
it shouldn't be as if we're fighting.
I'm not asking for a fight.
I'm asking to disappear into my own comfort;
to accept my uncoordinated attack on pleasure.
I'm asking for the dancing to end.
copyright 2006
Amye
Wilson |
