We are parenthetical
The outside matters not
We are isolated
From the building doubt
...
A woman does not melt
into sight from the rain.
A woman is born
in the rush of the flood.
...
cause now you're my morning glories.
my old wheels whirring.
and the young taste of
domestic beer burning.
...
You're the morphine shot.
You are my own personal high.
You call yourself comfort,
my doctor calls it euthanize.
...
My mothers voice echoed Aristotle
warning me of the pleasure of harms;
and you are my incontinence.
Purposeful ignorance of blaring alarms.
...
Your eyes won’t meet mine
When I tell you
That I love you
Your hands won’t reach mine
...
I drowned.
Tides came in and lapped at my toes,
until finally they convinced me
to join the waves,
...
Parenthetical
We are parenthetical
The outside matters not
We are isolated
From the building doubt
We are just one still frame
In a moving picture
Their story’s dragging on
But our moment never changes
We are on a train
You look out a window
The world is passing by
Inside air is recycled.
Make your escape from me
Am I your prison cell?
Leave me guarding these bars
Your own personal hell
And I am not trying
To hurt you or trap time
I am just so afraid
Tomorrow you wont be mine