Pining Simpatico

A fevered wild poise races through your blood into the tips of your lips and fingers

Pulsing to tops of cheeks and shaky teeth

I grab hold to try and steady my hands and heart

Heart murmurs becoming the beat to this dance on a wire

Sitting in the dark with your skin pulling in the moon

The car acts as an iron lung, if to step out, my breathing would end

Placing words into the tops of your fists

A party favor from the cocoon in which we spin

A fevered wild boy racing you through the tips of my tongue and thoughts

Pulling at the moon to illuminate your eyes

To shed light in this darkening space between palms growing dimmer with each breath

One door has to open for another to close

Just hope mine isn’t locked from the inside

Joshua Tool – 12/08/12

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