Would My Lips Taste Any Sweeter With The Dew Of Your Breath Condensing On Their Folds?
Would They Shine In The Candlelight Of Our Room?
Would They Part So Easily If Your Phantom Tongue Did Not Slip In Like Envigorating Oxygen?
They Provide As Much Relief And Necessity As Breath.

The Weak Sunlight Of The Morning Makes Everything Ethereal And Gentle Around Its Edges.
It Makes My Eyes Droop In Silent Joy At Your Repose.
Your Breathing Is A Lullaby More Melodic, More Tuneful Than The Sparrow At Dawn Do Tweet.
Your Hands Wander Across The Topography Of My Skin.

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When I Was A Child, And You Were A Man In This Kingdom By The Sea,
This Princess She Lived With No Other Thought Than To Live And Live Her Life Free.
So When She Was A Child And You Were A Man In This Kingdom By The Sea,
The Princess Swam Off Into The Churning Brine And Vowed To Live Happily.
Under The Waves, Among The Fish And Sand, She Lived And Lived Her Life Free.
She Let Her Hair Knot, Grew A Tail, And Caught Sunrays As Bright As Citrine.
My Wish Has Come True, The Princess Sighed, I’ve Loved And Loved Myself Free.
But The Princess Was Lonely, She Missed That Man, No Longer A Child Was She.
She Splayed Herself On A Sunsoaked Rock, With Her Hair Bright As Filigree.
Her Bare Breast Shone, Her Iridescent Tail Flicked, She Sang Lasciviously
About His Green Eyes, And Scaly Thighs, And How Much In Love Was She.
But No Man Came, No Neck To Nibble, Her Sharp Teeth Bright As Iv’ry.
So She Bit Out Her Tongue And Under The Water Sung Out All Her Misery.
When I Was A Child, And You Were A Man In This Kingdom By The Sea,
This Girl, She Lived With No Other Thought Than To Love And Make You Love Me

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The Clouds Tinged Pink, The Sky Dead, Died Blue;
An Expanse Of Absolute, Implicit Boredom Unfurling Before Me.
Endless Summer Days And Nights Meld Into Am Infinite Song,
Filled With Sempiternal Vagueness And Languid Choking Warmth.
Lethargy.
Yes, That’s Re Word.
A Perfect State Of Cultivated Boredom Filling Time Like Smoke:
Opaque But Without Substance.
I Wonder If Something Could Have Been Accomplished Had I Tried To Banish It.
Would My Mind Be Any Nearer Any Clearer If I Did?
I’ve Disassociated Reality From My Consciousness.
The Movements Rote Done Out Of Habit More Than Necessity.
Allowing My Mind To Meander Through Lalaland.
It’s A Wonderful Place, You Know.
Tragic, But Wonderful.
The Streets (Paved With Splintered Shards Of Surreal.
Lead To Nowhere-In-Particular Road And Memory Lane.
The Detours In Life Are More Important Than The Destinations Anyway.
Roseate, Swelling, Undulant Clouds In The Shape Of Poets, Past And Present,
Melt Slowly Across A Cyan Canvas.
I Paint A Mustache On Sara Teasdale And Laugh.
It’s All Rather Dalí Like To Drift Through That Place.
In Your Mind.
Quite Alone.
There Was One Person..
Ah Well,
It’s Much Sweeter To Be Locked Away In Your Cranium Than Out There Anyway.
Not Sure If I Went Anywhere With This.
Not Sure If I Said Anything Of Much Substance.
But It’s More Than I’ve Done
For This Ceasless Span Of Time

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