Thing of the Past.

Chemical Love

Every bump on my skin is goosed

My eyes are dilated and their ceramic gloss is two faced, melancholy tears and wedding joy both

Intestines I had forgotten now beat with my heart, shrink wrapped against its Juliet desire

The time passing vexes and seizes me, the quiet thump of butterfly wings

I can feel tingles, lingering on fingers—fingers? Or under my skin, my nerves shot up with opiate electricity

Mechanic engines roar instead of hiss, letting slip that they are more than patched up airbags

Bundles of nerves conglobate into a single image, the whole potential of the brain looking at lips

I am stuck on that awkward divide between happiness and tomorrow

and it’s wonderful

Do you ever listen to music so beautiful that you wonder how you can ever possibly survive long enough to love it?