Carousel

I think I’ve had enough of your world for today.
My head has opened up and your pictures fall like rain.
In front of my face they spin.
We were corresponding shapes like the rocks in a ledge.
Now this puzzle has been rained upon and the corners lost their edge.
Nothing fits as it once did.
But at least we had finished at
All over this room I reign you are.
All over this room I reign you are.
All over this room I reign you are.
And what’s wrong with that? Nothing I guess…
So I entertain my mind with little ticks and movie flicks.
Combinations of quirky comedies, but they’ve all got romantic twists.
And when I can’t forget I write.
That’s how this whole thing came to be.
It helps me when I’m lonely.
All over this room I reign you are.
All over this room I reign you are.
All over this room I reign you are.
And what’s wrong with that? Nothing I guess…
So, I guess you’re right. I did abhor the awkward silence we endured.
And spoke a truce to stop the swell and slow this spinning carousel.
Yet still it spun from time to time, laced with mistrust that cracked the
spine. This feeble frame just would not hold and sparked the drifting of two
souls. I am not ready nor deserve a line of love that can’t be blurred into a
shallow blotch of lust. A dirty thought. A pointless fuck. I never properly
explained, this bodied beauty you contain is too much for a man to take at such
an age-less feeling age.
Works. This circle never works. This cycle of the poet and his dame who never
could explain this tired plot. Insistent it would stop. Convinced that every
problem soon would rest. That bad things at their best would fix themselves.
But those things you just can’t tell. And its taunting in this straight jacket
of hope. It blinds and it disrupts the ebb and flow. The process of letting go.
The pattern on this strange bright lighted stage. The stigma at this age-less
feeling age.