catch my fall?

i miss you,

you don’t know that, though.

i lack the courage and the alcohol

that would allow me to taste and stomach

the words that depict my lovely fall.

oh, fall.

fall into you.

winding the clocks, in turn,

each turning to ashes, to ashes

drifting on the wind,

so lovely the burn.

and ashes to ashes to medical gashes.

we all fall down.

falling,

oh, falling down from you.

silence is golden, but whispers are silver.

heard by father’s daughters receiving semen.

spouted by mother’s sons into ears.

inviting them all the way in.

oh, falling.

falling into you.

the halo of streetlights that you call a crown,

razor blade smile and dime store button eyes.

eyes sewn to overcoats, a sea in which i drown.

advancing to alley ways with hangers,

a wave of fertility.

fertility i’m sure that came from you.

i’ve seen the way the introduction is made.

between maids and the ever-so inviting ground,

to which they fall more, i suppose, than are laid.

maidens fall,

oh, how delicately we fall for you.

more into than for,

we wine-watered whores

are falling, free falling to you.