Cryptic Alone In A Sad White Room



A long time or what seems like a long time ago I used to want nothing more than to sit and sing songs for you all night till daybreak



But that’s over forever. All I want to do now is sit with you all night beneath



the red moon bipolar

the flecked spill of eternity

red green and purple



the black stars waiting as do we

for the gods to sing, for the Aliens to come, for

the imprint in your blood when I touch you,



for the imprint in mine

when yours

sings into



mine



(no daybreak required)



To see you once is to love you once maybe twice but then to never see you again



Just like the Aliens when they come with their gifts of strange human longevity and then



I end up the world’s oldest man still in his thirties riding a gray horse, winding up into the dark cold and snow-streaked hills away from the killing sea



With the Internet and this dysfunctional parent age long gone and dead, I think aboriginally:

I wonder where she is now



(this is all pretty junior high school but I swear:

if I ever see you, I’ll kiss you, sure,

you know who you are



and I bet you

let me