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Lover for the Occasion

It's amusing,
      nearly
      amusing that when the eyes are locked
and verbal trebuchets loaded and
tense down to the
    last lingering
mandible,    I'm not bothered.

Guilt's a mashed potato rotting
        in some nether world, and
  shame is radiated and then
          dissipated in bronze
flashes.

It's nice just
to lay
    and look.

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Comments

  • A-Telltale-Heart
    October 8
    Edit | Reply
    I know the feeling you're talking about here. I want to feel that so bad, it hurts.