Just Like Honey
let me hold it forever deep but not buried and fresh as crystal. moving up and so alive, swallows my spine time and time again in and out of time [gaseline girl with a vaseline mind] in and out, in and out. i was lying there wishing for the first time in my life to really stop time, despite years of seeing it as my nemesis. i do not want to decay, but to shoot lightning from my fingertips, to bend the skies and sweep the oceans clean, to cause retreat in awe. her teeth stuck in my cheek and despite her words i felt only like a little boy, sobbing and clutching at the fleeting. it's a familiar feeling made tangible [light] in august afternoon bedsheets and puns spun around limbs and ears and knowing time's decay of memory was nearly as devastating as its decay of life. last year, maybe exactly, it was the same way. i have not listened to "True Love Waits" since, and probably never will. the loss of innocence in missionary position, crying, muffling moans in each other.
a lioness eyeing her prey with olive-almond eyes coming to black points. she shook her mane and placed her paws atop my chest checking for a heart. i placed my hand on her stomach, the span of my fingers like cracked lightning, pale against her rich afternoon skin, able to cover nearly all of it. we moved in rhythm and apart.
i'm thankful. for being moved consistently up and down, back and forth, but always forward for two years. you've left your fingerprint on my soul. you've drunk deeply from my fountain, my well [and my lighthouse], lapped it up as it poured down my cheeks.
the passing of time makes me dull. thank you, thank you. i've done nothing here; that's impossible. this is impossible. i'm out of here.
your eyes are burning holes through me, i'm gasoline, i'm burning clean, twentieth century go to sleep, really deep, we won't blink, your eyes are burning holes through me, i'm not scared, i'm outta here. i'm not scared. i'm outta here.
a lioness eyeing her prey with olive-almond eyes coming to black points. she shook her mane and placed her paws atop my chest checking for a heart. i placed my hand on her stomach, the span of my fingers like cracked lightning, pale against her rich afternoon skin, able to cover nearly all of it. we moved in rhythm and apart.
i'm thankful. for being moved consistently up and down, back and forth, but always forward for two years. you've left your fingerprint on my soul. you've drunk deeply from my fountain, my well [and my lighthouse], lapped it up as it poured down my cheeks.
the passing of time makes me dull. thank you, thank you. i've done nothing here; that's impossible. this is impossible. i'm out of here.
your eyes are burning holes through me, i'm gasoline, i'm burning clean, twentieth century go to sleep, really deep, we won't blink, your eyes are burning holes through me, i'm not scared, i'm outta here. i'm not scared. i'm outta here.