| I think I’ve had enough of your world for today.
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| My head has opened up and your pictures fall like rain.
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| In front of my face they spin.
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| We were corresponding shapes like the rocks in a ledge.
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| Now this puzzle has been rained upon and the corners lost their edge.
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| Nothing fits as it once did.
|
| But at least we had finished at
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| All over this room I reign you are.
|
| All over this room I reign you are.
|
| All over this room I reign you are.
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| And what’s wrong with that? |
| Nothing I guess…
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| So I entertain my mind with little ticks and movie flicks.
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| Combinations of quirky comedies, but they’ve all got romantic twists.
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| And when I can’t forget I write.
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| That’s how this whole thing came to be.
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| It helps me when I’m lonely.
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| All over this room I reign you are.
|
| All over this room I reign you are.
|
| All over this room I reign you are.
|
| And what’s wrong with that? |
| Nothing I guess…
|
| So, I guess you’re right. |
| I did abhor the awkward silence we endured.
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| And spoke a truce to stop the swell and slow this spinning carousel.
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| Yet still it spun from time to time, laced with mistrust that cracked the
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| spine. |
| This feeble frame just would not hold and sparked the drifting of two
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| souls. |
| I am not ready nor deserve a line of love that can’t be blurred into a
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| shallow blotch of lust. |
| A dirty thought. |
| A pointless fuck. |
| I never properly
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| explained, this bodied beauty you contain is too much for a man to take at such
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| an age-less feeling age.
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| Works. |
| This circle never works. |
| This cycle of the poet and his dame who never
|
| could explain this tired plot. |
| Insistent it would stop. |
| Convinced that every
|
| problem soon would rest. |
| That bad things at their best would fix themselves.
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| But those things you just can’t tell. |
| And its taunting in this straight jacket
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| of hope. |
| It blinds and it disrupts the ebb and flow. |
| The process of letting go.
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| The pattern on this strange bright lighted stage. |
| The stigma at this age-less
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| feeling age. |