Running a finger upon the spines
Treasures of unrequited wit
It can be difficult to wear a smile
When you always feel like shit
Fingerprints on the dusty shelves
Disfigured; in need of some rest
Looking for inspiration in the pages
Slowly drowning despite doing my best
Sheets & reams of the nonsensical
Literary blood lost in the shadow of ink
The lifeforce of a simmering soul
Marginal hearts writing love against the kitchen sink
Leaving behind the caricature of an artist
Contributions to society felt in these empty sheets
Fingersmudges marking pages not so white
Starkly exposed with revolutionary words in the streets
Traces of hereditary ideals eroding away
Igniting pages shall still be a stilted sin
Yet we rise again from our desert floor
Eternally grateful our finite letters aren’t porcelain
I trace your lips with my finger
Such pouty perfection in this face
I want to devour you right here
But in public is not the proper place
So I whisper one word: “tonight”
& let you think upon that all day
You’ll stew & simmer & imagine
How all this love will be conveyed
A finger to my lips
Fixated on your secrets encased
Knowing the enchanting stories
You’re upon what fairytales are based
Remaining silent with restraint
For that is your required desire
Locked into your heavenly eyes
Nothing greater than stoking your primal fire
Just wanting these eyes to close & slowly linger
Fatigue from society & the domesticated sheep
Intentionally & lightly dipping her ginger fingers
Focused breaths when you only wish to sleep
Leaning against the doorframe
Draped in my best dress shirt
I see you’re in for fun & games
Already cleaned of the day’s dirt
You tease me with a wink
For your essence, I’m a glutton
Every moment my willpower shrinks
As I watch you finger the last button
Trying to recreate life
In spite of these ink-stained fingers
The smudges in the interior margins
Forgotten, yet where light tends to linger
These days aren’t so easily understood
I contradict back onto myself
Leaving traces in my erratic wake
All I know – Love has been my only true wealth
Rubbing their fingers over the stereo knob
The frequencies distorted on the airwaves
Kings of the new world & thus apocalyptic
Searching for something more pragmatic to crave
These technocrats with no concept of reality
Tasking – without offering an alternate fate
Demanding citizens for homages to be digital
With no power to control – or else we attenuate
Words of peace have the chance to amplify
Even when we’re feeling out of time/out of sync
Don’t need their fiber optic lies to survive
A blind man loses all when forced to blink
Tapping into a passion without any circuits
Our transistors are live; we’re lovers thus discrete
There’s no stopping us when their signal’s weak
There’s nothing but fire & sparks when our wires meet
This life is forever altered now we’re here
Do not attempt to adjust the squelch
You’re listening to Radio Free America
Standing proud & robust like Raquel Welch
Just because you’re the inspiration
Doesn’t mean you’re the intended
Taking what life gives us
Even those not comprehended
Just because you’re the muse
Doesn’t mean you’re the truth
Finding open sores upon the soul
Lingering there since early youth
Just because you’re the source
Doesn’t mean you’re all that real
Gone once my fingers close
You’re merely a ghost my heart can feel
Captain Q 