My God!
I sold my Books
To buy the shoes you're wearing.
Feel less candescent,
More translucent-
The longer you're waiting,
Baiting,
Breath thats shady
Pine trees roaming
Through me you feast
And Tick
Tick
Tick
Your fingertips
Say Yes! I'll have another
Please, If I may cry
Or Scream
Or Hope.
Through prayer your blow torch
Singes off my wispy hair-
But should you cry for me now,
What will I look like when you get there?
An empty vase or row of
Unsolicited chairs.
You're supposed to climb
On Top of me to lay?
Legs draped like flowers
Over our grave-
Worship this meaningless pump
Results
Nothing but regret and torment
And
My God!
I sold my books
To buy the shoes you wear
-And I'm the one whose never made love?
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