I am

Just looking at you brings my skin alive,

You hover somwehere outside my vision on the periphery

making music, downloading music, playing music.

You don’t have any idea I think of the way I feel

else you would turn to me and say , ‘I am…’

But on the other hand, you must know, your eyes

tell me so, your movement sublime.

My ego, your moves.

I drag behind.

Little gifts tell me one thing

I look in the mirror and something tells me different.

We are enemies on a collision trajectory

We are lovers never to die apart.

I tear my hair out but its already shaved

While you give Sampson a hard time

I dream of painting my nails brown.

You always come to my room

and play the same tunes while I

undergo lobotomy on chemicals and unwashed sheets.

You say Schizophrenia. I say nothing.

I say tommorow, you say nothing.

If my blood could speak I would cut myself for you to see.

Instead we go on and repeat the same thing day after day.

until one of us dies.

This is fucking extreme, yet we play it like a dream.

There is no kissing but we fuck with the best.

There is no tommorow it seems only a condition.

Just and the hangman was measuring me for the rope

my old friend serendipity came and saved my life.

If this is how it is with friends I pity your future wife

yet would willingly swap places with her strife.


Published by Andrew Mark Watkins

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