Kids

Manual labor;
planting dreams in barren fields.
Moving mouths to say what
you’re thinking, and realizing you
don’t like speaking your mind.
Here’s where you pick the dirt
from beneath your fingernails
and deny any semblance of effort.

No Shit, Sherlock

I’m not doing this right.

Autobot

Parched (read: starved for attention)
voice box fractures.
Prodding lights reveal early introversion,
eyes pick up the slack.

Puff Piece (II)

Don’t hold your breath for me.
I can see we both have our hands full and
yeah, we could wait and see.
If memory serves we’ll scour anyway.
Highs lows, around/between/under pinky toes.
My posture is more of a slump,
declarations like pauses
but yeah you should wait and see.
I already said it.
Maybe I’m just amazed-mazed.
I kind of want to wait and see.

S/T/E/R/E/O

Static.
Frequencies staring into my demi-soul. And then
that song came on.
Cued reality with bum/bum/be/dum.
I couldn’t tell you a single word, but
they had to have heard the news.
Shamelessly rooting for you.
Like I was taking what I wanted…

Loq

I spy the Lights Out queen.
She sits like a lady/
so I just assumed the rest.
Eyes like cage dances/
sing flames far as/
pheromones cease decree.
I can tell you right now/
she should have given up/
on vocal chords hours ago.

Dinner Date

Wiped, pristine plate smiles
not letting them stack up,
always willing to polish.
Things like that extra mile.
I opt to cut clean cloth ties and
see only my missed opportunities
for conversational niceties.
Resting on shoulders, our meal has chilled.
Checks brought, promptly
tossed over the right with
less polite salt companions.
Eyes bigger than the general pensive
and my stomach tells me
I’m going to need a while to let this settle.

Puff Piece (I)

What insanity.
Guilt dries my gums until only the obvious remains.
We truss tepid treaties and know full well
what we’ll never revisit. Too tight and this
pen always betrays paper-deep, all I’m left with
is another tally-tied lie in full black and white.
All too readily I tendered any semblance of colour.
Left alone, my bare bones prepare for salvage.
Optimism at arm’s length and still nowhere in sight.
What insanity.

Formidable Foes

Slow rise and fall
lungs tumble, strategically
accept smokescreen defeat.
Less impulsive. So polite.
Decline to meet gazes
producing such tails.
Present tense cool
shyly eyes notable
identity compromise;
exhaling future allies.
Now eyes dead deep
from the inside.
Wasted wheels turn,
reputation acquired.
Oh my lungs, I’ve become
a detriment to love.

Small Steps

Back to the Headlights.
Oh no, I had a thought
backed by no feeling and
even so, I can’t help but relate
more than I’d care to admit.
Preparing gum lines for lies,
stretching lips to match.
Here come my sweet talk
prime your ears.