Pair Up

When it is all out it's out to rot

the sentiment is ours to plot

but for hindsight to ruin and mock

the enterprise daftly galloped

flawed by chemical elopements;

Those days we were the shadow of the rock

and couldn't tell the traitor from the flock

we hid well in contraband

and got transported to filthy lands

far away from dreams that'll crush

the zest of life we accord to love.

Always the warnings I chose to hush

always the stride with which I drop

the guard that'll keep me from the rush

that hits my head, tidal, flushed;

always the smiles that disobey

and widen up for the one we sway for

as the crystallization completes

only in that particular and then repeat

while dumbness confounds the chronicle

which preaches a parsimonious order

for all our acts and gestures. Yes sir!

Perhaps I only grave rules on my synapses

to outrun them in complacency;

perhaps I only incarcerate freedom

to disattach my self from sin.

The time for wine is two o clock

until then we'll beat the beast above

with nomenclatures, pourri pots

of our imbecile fright spectacles.

I need to fret to keep time a friend

otherwise it just routes its sinuous vermin

into the equally sinuous veins I rein

determined for optimate circulation.

When there is no peace in silence

but a cacophony of pest ridden sirens

I unclench my fist to a whip

and beat their putrid eggs to a fatwa

banter tramping against each other -

better nothing than me in the middle.

Sun streams in like a feud waiting to begin

but I shan't partake in the dalliance

I offer it my blessing if it wishes me well

but best is the moon, less vain offence.

I want to back stab the watch keeper

that holds the key to distribution of fate

and the parlance of the great arbiter :

how we must entertain all prospect

knowing when to fail knowing when to to fight

but always our duty to entertain

when nothing gapes in with frightful might.

Feist, feast, take me to the emporium

of sensual revelries which I abhor

let me drink all the petroleum

or what flavor we assess of the moment.

I awoke with a gift that you did not give

at least not aware that you had parted with it

whatever it may be, damned I bleed

for the belief I've allowed to instill me;

but the danger colors the interaction

with the trait of destruction we own

to ride the wave of lust perturbation

knowing that we are only adept to falter.

So I keep the gift always true

a testament to this life not just a predicament

I will stay away from serpentine turpitude

that'll hoax my mind into blind torment.

And in the furious folly of sunlight streaming in

I resist the urge from possessing me entire

when it already fled from the leash too thin

to hold within my great masked grin.

If one expects pain to adorn each increment

of life tediously piled onto another

how can one deal with one that is none

without ascribing it to treachery, falseness?

You're too pretty for me, this I know

and perhaps you enjoy the adulation

and possibly I drink up self negation

and proud as the recognition

that burns in excessive recourse

I chastise the pain for its terrible fold.

To love me is what I ache for

and swift condemn the desire I hold.

For you to love is what I wish for

and to be the recipient you win

to choose.