What a conquest
for him
What an achievement...
He thinks
He thinks?
correctly
When he wonders
Knows I won�t
mention it
Nothing will come of it
No
Inside my head...
{Spinning... Sleepy Seduction...}
He says
�Come on...�
{See it again? That smile...}
�No, no, no...�
I tell myself...
I have to convince
Myself
not to walk
wander... wallow... wade...
wash away... wilt...
in the leaves
Not to fall
into that which he
�I don�t really want to...�
is plotting
But so easily I could...
Just his existence
almost
annoys me
Then there�s an
instance
I look up and
see him
That which he projects
And once in a while
that is
almost
enough
Within that moment
I am willing
and once in a while
if only
that is enough
wanting...
His eyes, trying to be
soulful
�saint seducing gold�
Do I the honor have
of being named a
Saint?
By him,
dripping.
.
.
.
with arrogance
soaked through
drenched in the sweat of
innocence?
Experience
So he paints his picture
Like a child with so many
Colors
Mixing them all together
and soon it�s
too late
instead of that well balanced piece of art
masterpiece?
he�s come
to form a
Grotesque
shade of greenish-
purple-
gray
bruise
There must be a
mind
in there
somewhere
At times
I almost see it
trying to emerge
I know that this could be no
where
near
What love is
What is love?
Why is he attracting
me of all people
We are not alike
because
We are just the same
unsatisfied...
Words, the words
he says to try and
convince me
manipulation
manifestation?
I wonder if I am
making more of it
of him
Then there really is
He gives me that
gift
the look
from across the room
the one I can�t quite
Explain
A place I don�t want to go
Like a secret we share
A secret
he wants
for us to share
hate, hate
MAD DOG!!!
evil, live
I hate him
I
almost
envy
green...
him
His foggy world
smoke screens
Blinded
feeling alive
too dramatic
It would be
so easy to see