The sun is a bastard.
Awake in your bed
With your back to me,
I feel sensitive to your indifference,
So I withdraw into thought.
Is it odd that I want to
Share a tooth brush, or
Drink out of your cup?
I want a woman that doubles as a fork.
I suppose it is time for me to leave.
But your hair may disagree,
As It reaches out toward me,
More of you that I’d like to eat.
I know I must go, but you,
So perfect in form, sweet sounds,
Far off in dream, no doubt,
Far away from me.
If only I understood women.
I’m of a cannibalistic persuasion.
These lovely shape-shifters sleep
While I tip toe through the house,
A cat burglar,
stealing little sweet respirations,
In search of the bathroom.
A dollop of toothpaste
On the chewed index finger
Of a man who just wants it to feel right.
I brush you away,
But I wanted it to be different,
Blast the morning,
I’m sorry if I manufactured this distance.