| nights like these |
| it's nights like these, � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � when the clouds drift (groggy with their water-weight) lazily across the metallic face of the moon; � � � nights like these � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � when one can't help but doubt the meaning, � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � the theories and systems stacked up underneath our shirts and titled 'ideals.' � � � nights like these � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � that my desires slip out like wrinkled shirttails from the back of my inhibitions . � � � finding the moon like this, � � � � � � � � � � � hiding like this under a thin veil of floating water, thick crystals in the air, i want nothing more than to reach into the back of that cliched drawer (where i'm sure you can guess i keep more than underwear) � � � � � � � � - and open up the window � � � � � � � � �[let the moonlight stream in as a million tiny smokestacks wiggle their way out] � � � nights like these � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � i find myself losing my mind, � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � and, playing drum cadences on the ivory walls inside my liberated skull, � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � i pick out a subconsious jingle reminiscent of morse code. � � � � � � � � �it sings: � � � � � � � � �"freedom is nudity on a rainy night- � � � � � � � � � and now you can be sure you're not alone" |