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bend
bend
bending
we are bent
like the five o'clock
traffic light
spooned
next
to nothing
rush
we rush
like bats
out of hell
searching
for heaven
and daylight
and mystery
and sometimes
I feel
intrigue
slide
down
my arm
late at night
when I'm feeling
so fast
my thoughts
can't keep
up
and my eyes
are spin
spin
spinning
through your valleys
contemplating
my journey,
your creation
all these nothings
that add up
to something
so much grander
than anything
I've ever seen
but I'm carried
I'm carried
away again
like so many times
before
swept up
in the emotion
of your hand
on my thigh
feeling so uncomfortable
and so less like
home
than anything
I've ever felt
and I think
the moon
should plummet
down,
lick her lips
and eat my tongue
like she promised
a long time
ago.
Because tonight,
in bed
beside you
awake,
I am worrying
about the things
I never should have
said
( f e l t )
riding
orange clouds
down to the sea
dragging
my heels
along the sands
of indecision
and you,
you don't
even notice
the way my body




l i f t s




when I think of leaving.



( Sometimes I think Jesus walked on water to get away from all the bullshit on land. )
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bex box : poetry : bending, we are bent