sin

such indecent jealousy
to propose that the weight of my being is an anemic moon to your sinfully
elegant jupiter all wrapped in your clouds
and even now i modify myself (with no indiscretion... maybe regret)
that you may see that you may see
beset my brow with flame i feel a crying rage frustration rather
and my mind oxidizes on the accolades of others like you left your apple
out in the sun soggy wet rotten like selfish tears greasy like to make a mess

your youth your prayers ferverant drifting with the fine ash of incense
shadow man in still water may as well be my father and beckons me in
breath deep beneath the surface so still looking up or looking down
looking up or looking down

whet my desire to articulate the sensations of self that must be something
greater than any man could know must be
impotent still sensual sensual oh so casual like it's lost it's lustre and
pizzaz
the style that i lack or cannot see there is no lustre in my being nothing
great or true
so i am the man on the moon weightless like i like to fill my
desperate lungs with nothing looking up or looking down
i can't take myself away from those words
you will haunt me always