Your Mercy in Fostering my Decadence.
I'm missing a line or two,
And where are you?
Far gone inside my dream-like illusions,
Why choose you?
I guess it's unexplainable but,
I also guess bird songs will have to do,
In calming my blazing neurones
- far more than drugs would do.
Yet I wander,
Shouldn't you be the one next to me,
With that soothing energy,
Holding me tightly, and
Allowing me to reach that last call to Infinity?
Finishing happiness,
A desirable ending.
Momentarily forgetting that sweaty hustle of a journey,
Despite the possibility that there might just be no next time, sadly.
Simplicity envisioned,
The chemistry of decision,
Single or not, ready for fruition,
I imagine you watching.
From a distance -
Curious Curiosity.
Yet I find myself still waiting for your intimacy,
Almost desperately.
Eyes glowing far in the
darkening distance,
Observing the tumultuous silence,
Hoping it is I in the crosshair
of your gaze, I remain
sadly lonely, not of company
but of your singular body,
Mind and Spirit unattainable,
For it is indeed yours that I pray for,
and it is knowingly that I admit both my denial,
and yours.
Letting go is my forte,
But heart games just aren't suitable for a Sunday,
I keep seeing your shadow,
Amidst the silhouette trees,
and before I know time flees,
I drop to my knees and let my head hang low -
At least in there,
At least in here,
Thank god, You're with me.
But only,
Until depression and desperation hits,
Leaving me baffled by the drama
That your personna leads,
A mission of love and acceptance:
Finding a spot in your dreams,
or better yet a corner of your bed to just
Sleep.
Putrid Stench,
A Frozen Bench,
March along and don't pretend,
That your eyes aren't fixated ahead,
Fronting not to see,
The immense beauty of,
Simply offering me your body.
Ashes in my glass,
Ashes in my lungs,
How can I be certain,
It isn't my mind that's gotten so lost in the sacred vine,
Your body that I crave, despite,
This isn't my beautiful wife!
This isn't my beautiful wife!
Lost in opportunities,
Fantasies paving the way to Infinity,
One, Two, Three, A Million times,
I look around, hoping,
To see your curls bouncing my way
And thank god satan,
For allowing my depravity to stay,
and enabling me to say,
That I am not that pompous,
and that all I want is simply with you to lay,
But only if I may,
and I want you to witness my body,
Eerily, clumsy, in the purity of this ceremony,
One of null weight, nor relevance,
But one simply geared upon
Your mercy in fostering my decadence.
Amen.
And where are you?
Far gone inside my dream-like illusions,
Why choose you?
I guess it's unexplainable but,
I also guess bird songs will have to do,
In calming my blazing neurones
- far more than drugs would do.
Yet I wander,
Shouldn't you be the one next to me,
With that soothing energy,
Holding me tightly, and
Allowing me to reach that last call to Infinity?
Finishing happiness,
A desirable ending.
Momentarily forgetting that sweaty hustle of a journey,
Despite the possibility that there might just be no next time, sadly.
Simplicity envisioned,
The chemistry of decision,
Single or not, ready for fruition,
I imagine you watching.
From a distance -
Curious Curiosity.
Yet I find myself still waiting for your intimacy,
Almost desperately.
Eyes glowing far in the
darkening distance,
Observing the tumultuous silence,
Hoping it is I in the crosshair
of your gaze, I remain
sadly lonely, not of company
but of your singular body,
Mind and Spirit unattainable,
For it is indeed yours that I pray for,
and it is knowingly that I admit both my denial,
and yours.
Letting go is my forte,
But heart games just aren't suitable for a Sunday,
I keep seeing your shadow,
Amidst the silhouette trees,
and before I know time flees,
I drop to my knees and let my head hang low -
At least in there,
At least in here,
Thank god, You're with me.
But only,
Until depression and desperation hits,
Leaving me baffled by the drama
That your personna leads,
A mission of love and acceptance:
Finding a spot in your dreams,
or better yet a corner of your bed to just
Sleep.
Putrid Stench,
A Frozen Bench,
March along and don't pretend,
That your eyes aren't fixated ahead,
Fronting not to see,
The immense beauty of,
Simply offering me your body.
Ashes in my glass,
Ashes in my lungs,
How can I be certain,
It isn't my mind that's gotten so lost in the sacred vine,
Your body that I crave, despite,
This isn't my beautiful wife!
This isn't my beautiful wife!
Lost in opportunities,
Fantasies paving the way to Infinity,
One, Two, Three, A Million times,
I look around, hoping,
To see your curls bouncing my way
And thank god satan,
For allowing my depravity to stay,
and enabling me to say,
That I am not that pompous,
and that all I want is simply with you to lay,
But only if I may,
and I want you to witness my body,
Eerily, clumsy, in the purity of this ceremony,
One of null weight, nor relevance,
But one simply geared upon
Your mercy in fostering my decadence.
Amen.