freedom.

talk about a free-for-all?
don't be surprised when you find out her eyes are gliding
over forbidden skins and bowling pins.
because you're claiming titles of the real fall out, boy, and wanting it.
i'm detecting a deficiency in commonality and unmatching pheromones
in the compartments of your very placid brain.
the quiet, the order,
the peace, disorder
that can drive her out of anything but feeling sane.
i'm unfortunately predicting a slip on acid, burning the soft skins
and musculature her eyes resound on and off of like tidal waves for lunar periods of time.
boy, i'm just doing my usual crime.
we're pretty sure it's not what it used to look like anymore.
i'm slipping into a new scene of earthen shades and in secret niches of a corner cafe,
riding on slides of slander and the curvatures of another baring back
over cups and cups of tea and pearls and the things you lack.
i was never able to carry on with you the same way
because you're the closed end, and i'm your polar opposite
recalling relative variables to formulate a better line of fit.
so i can't help but acknowledge a new trend at this rapid rate,
you gotta' make it,
extrapolate it.
this is how fate lets it.
correlate it. damn it, you just don't get it.
we're slipping out of laundered threads while we're still alive in our heads.
going once, going twice,
wanting more than what should suffice.
i feel no guilt nor shame for the sake of facing eye to eye, and i believe in the notion of karma and reality.
you dish out your daggers, i'll bleed out blatancy.
you unsheathe your fists, i'll unravel your every noted discrepancy.
i will reveal your weakness and every insecurity by reopening each wound with the scalpel of your misfortune.
i will scrape at your sensitive scars.
i will make sure you relive the pain that comes from the course of bleeding and increase it ten-fold.
it will hurt so,
so much, you will regret the idea of you and me and fucking it.