Tool Box Love; Guess Who’s Screwing

I guess I don’t know what happened.

I blinked and everything came unraveling. I think I had some sort of accident that left me numb, left me closed off from my natural rhythm. She wanted me to read my poetry at a coffee spot where a bunch of people did that kind of thing. I said of course, of course I would show up and read some wild shit they never heard before. Her eyes lit up – She was hesitant to speak on what any of mine meant – But she knew she wanted to be a part. Ironically she’d come to be bastioned within them before she had even known that she possessed the desire. I started drafting the fortifications before she was able to draw any curtains; Another odd chapter to be fleshed out of a man who was convinced he had been hollowed out.

I will carry you,
I will, carry you.

I’ve always felt blessed to be able to feel people’s tensions. I never read too many books because I was busy reading the words not on any page – I know things I shouldn’t, I know things before they come into the picture.

I lived to never put up any walls, I welcomed the truths even if the pain would have me coiled up. The vulnerability is something I wanted to know fully for when the time was right, and now it’s clear the time to act is past; The time to open the cage is here. I no longer smell what fear had lingered dear, I only smell the blood stirring, and the sweet rivers.

And it’s on our minds, question unavoidable, why have I stayed so long, when we know the cards on the table – There is no royal flush in this hand, I’ve swept the floor and I know what I’m looking at. Oh that was vicious, I’ll admit it; You shall learn to know that if our time on this earth is so little, faking love shouldn’t take much of it.

I’m missing everything you say,
It’s not important what you stay for;
The sink is overflowing,
but no one is turning off the handle.

The thing with dark haired girls is that you always find their hair in your bed, whether they ever lay in it or not.