Why do you

waste all this time,

little birdman?

Waste away,

Waste away,

Waste away.

what does time do,

When the seconds drip off

My face and onto my thighs?

And what do I do

When you drip between your legs

And onto my face?

I love it,

Time loves it.

I’m reading Ovid in my Hemingway socks,

A classic and I’m a sellout,

Books bought locally

But not my local – not yet.

Icarus falls from the sky

And my plane will soar safe –

So life goes.

I’m a little Icarus and a lot of Hem,

Big battles with my big ego

And small sentences with small words.

I’ve never found a sun I didn’t want to fly at –

A flaming bird tattooed on my chest –

Because nobody tells me what is too hot to touch.

I am the fire.

The wind weeps savage,

Long

Tears.

A memory – another life –

Dances behind my eyes when

I feel your ghost in my room.

I want you riding shotgun,

I want you with a shotgun,

I want you to feel me end.

Your desire drips

Down my sad face

And tries to ignite my heart

But my love is dead

And bitter

And caged.

I watch your face melting

In my dreams and

Nothing can change that fake reality.

I hold you in my private nowhere –

I watch it all come down –

Everytime I dare to dream or imagine.

Where did the time go,

And why did it take you from me?