French Bistros
Crackling like lightning the scent of rainy sundays and sweaty youth enters my lungs like undesired medication
foot steps and introduction of generations and blood lines fills my head like crazy family stories
This time of night reminds me of you
I walked past the french bistro and absorbed young skins and loud jazz rumbling like a giants soulful baby
I watched day turn to night and rain drizzle upon this illuminated darkness of melodies and heart grabbing stares
Paranoia captured my follicles
and I swear that man on the train with poka dots and stripped hands
looks like you
I walked past the french bistro as my hair began to gather the memories of the year
and the world seemed to mirror my thoughts
this time of year reminds me of you
I remind me of you
I keep waiting for a newness to enter my heart
so Im not chained to my love for you
I forgot all our times together
because they remind me of wine dipped, swollen, broken hearts of mine
wanting to grow and develope more then ever I only revert back to ghosts of reality
The bone marrow inside of me was stolen by santa
and each joint of my body has gained such a heaviness
its hard to get up
from pillows of dusty broken skin cells
Shoulder whipped and ankles cold lonesome electricity
pipping in darkened roofs
hooved horses bellowing
below
me
whispers of cloud catching voices that aren’t you
and hands that roughen me
toughen me
lost to the shell of you
lost to the sparked foutainhead that spouts your
linguistic melodies in my head like torterous
hellish
key board clicking
ticking me away from existence
jumbled in condenced barren faces
desolate land erupt me
oh places places places
that feed me into monstreous children
forsaken
silly folly I forbid you to drink me dry
darken me so
leave me lonesome
take me holy
Thought I heard you whisper but it was only the mosquito sucking my rotting blood
This part of me reminds me of you
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