Here's an extract from a piece i'm working on at the moment (developed from the telephone piece in To be or not be a Cunt):
If only in these perimeters.
Well love might not be the word but its the first word that comes to mind.
Your my servant, my Master.
You provide me with joy.
The sweet sound, my percussion, my rhythm.
You hit to the beat of my end, my finale.
You love when I leave,
When the action slowly evaporates into the next,
movement cruelly discarded.
If i'm not there to witness the fallout maybe the celebration will linger,
live a bit longer in your conciousness.
Maybe i'll still be there tomorrow.
Forgive my absence.
It doesn't have to come between us.
Maybe someday we can love without any framework at all
Maybe we can just be ourselves.
No comments:
Post a Comment