Soldiers march towards my castle, I ignore them they follow me to the master bedroom. So we mix I see cracks and smoke-filled limelights. I recently trembled, I fell I fall. I live alone with the film reels. I sing sometimes...with my urban metronome. Flashes of dreams spark my lonely film reels. So they click and spark and cloud up like a powderball, a French memory a recent regret.
And at nighttime...
Carving up the streets rodeo-railroad-style, slicing the sidewalks, slow-dancing firelight. Reflective marble tiles the green, the gold, the squeaky chairs. The friends, like the refreshing water on the first day of summer. Remind me of home of slavery, lately I think of my emancipation...honestly, I have faith in it. I worry she'll stammer towards me, I'll find myself stranded looking lazily down at the hardwood floor, a stain, another, a sliver of my own armaggedon - rushing to privacy, forgot the secret ingredient, hehe, gotcha. In a slicked out, metal shell, yeah, the one you shot under my chapped lip healer.
So the plan has to be...try again tomorrow while there's tomorrow.
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