I Peek, As She Peeks, Apeeker, Peeking Poem by James McLain

i look at the window, the curtains move in
an airless room, deja vi the feeling in it's self
always new, when i think this thought that i think in you.
what is it, that makes it you, you thinking of me watching
you, want to look for me in, some think, oink, of you
that feeling just grows..in hues of pink...
a door is cracked, i check for your traps, most unusual
to be left ajar, the hairs on your brush are all there.
mentionables, perfume the air, the scent is stunning
in electric, i only mention them to you because i know,
you are watching me, while i search, in you with
me watching, our eyes abort one another makes me grow
heavy, thick and so strained as i move,
in a dream, slowly it seems, to your bed on the floor,
by the wall, where i fall.
it is all there, where i left it, st rune about, white, pinks, purples
yellow as bright as the flower much worn, on a forest is grass
always sweet, never torn, never known.