I stole the moon and broke it apart and ground it to dust and sung it a lullabye, hushabye little babe...
but I have kept a quarter of the moon and forgot all about the other three. Where have you gone now, my little wayward moon?
*
call me neuropathy. she thinks this a good name.
when have you ever been close? he asks her and i can only stare. with his words and his noble act he tries to convince her but he is just too near and his smell thickens in her nostrils and this just amounts to repetition, the eternal separation, incessant partitioning of what you have from what you want.
recidivism
(i must have those eyes, said the prince. i must have those eyes)
she can only say, this has all been done before
she leaves. they tell her not every kiss means suffocation, not every embrace breaks the bones
she has never known otherwise. a chain and a ball and dull dull death
and they call her cruel
but I have kept a quarter of the moon and forgot all about the other three. Where have you gone now, my little wayward moon?
*
call me neuropathy. she thinks this a good name.
when have you ever been close? he asks her and i can only stare. with his words and his noble act he tries to convince her but he is just too near and his smell thickens in her nostrils and this just amounts to repetition, the eternal separation, incessant partitioning of what you have from what you want.
recidivism
(i must have those eyes, said the prince. i must have those eyes)
she can only say, this has all been done before
she leaves. they tell her not every kiss means suffocation, not every embrace breaks the bones
she has never known otherwise. a chain and a ball and dull dull death
and they call her cruel
