It Clicks


 

Can you explain
The scales that consecutively run
To those that cannot sense it.

Our vision that pales;
His, hers, and mine,
In the faces of sophists.

Then dewy inklings
Of feathered proofs lapse
By subsequent engineering
In uncounted droplets
On tympanic shields
From deciphers felt.

Breathless moments buried;
Dissonant reverberations
Diminishing;
Things I
Use to
Savor.

Crappy Titles

Crappy first liners
Pile in black crinkly bags
In how many shitty ways
Could it be dressed in rags;
The things I wanted to say,
That there was nothing finer
Then the things you’d written
That I had been smitten
The second time you caught my attention,
Though I did my best to deny it
There was no denying
The betrayal of my own actions.
I had decided towards the noncommittal
So when you first shown
In fluorescent lighting
You demolished, while you belittled
My determination to lead a life
Without romantic turbulence.
Initially I pretended
I had not been watching.
But I ended up chasing
After your prancing silhouette
Desperately trying to get a handle
On the soul you had hidden
Inside porcelain fragments.
And now that you have left
I no longer possess a smidge
Of the thrill I used to be unable
To contain while uncovering
Your flawlessly flawed existence.

Would you give
Me the pleasure
Of being able
To witness you again.