trying to get it

i dunno. life moves
but stays in the same place
the edges crumble, your smile
filters into indigo
then bayous. i reap the midlength
rope over the halyards and the futon
is once again our bed. a tableau
of broken lamppost, large fan and bad latex
paint is pointed out in the slide.
you rise above me and say listen
you can't call yourself a pirate unless
you put it in action. i have to hang
my head in shame. another child
showing me how to live.





yet, later your piracy becomes the same cow i am.
is it me, am i doing this? comfort and country cooking
and a poke in every pone, a drip in everybone.
on the dating site, the memetic behaviour of wasps.
brittle barnacles with a mosques intent. large lumps
of flesh pushed into tiny tight spandex. the ex
is always a good way to seem sexier but really ladies
there are better ways than whips and chains
tho i've yet to see them tried. i've got the smell
of cheating in my atomizer. there's a half moon on the outhouse
and someone's peeking in. synchronicity and puck, having his laugh
on us. yes, us. don't pretend i didn't see you there.
and moi? qu'es que c'est? too many apostrophes , apocryphal in the apogee?

ok, sleep will take me now.
down into the depths of drama where your smile awaited
its leaving, the jungle rot beginning in the cock
then moving quickly to the brain. it's this loss
of love again that maims. you know what i mean.

it's not that i can't feel you.
i simply cannot feel.