|Spiders all in tune|
There is a glue that binds us, you know.
The humming of vibrations tie our molecules together
and we shimmy shimmy shimmy through the break of dawn, yeah.
I think me, I want life.
Yeah me, I want a house and a wife
and the slow disintegration of the days of wine and doses.
You’ve still got a weed tray.
I’m just drinking more coffee
and listening to these bands play.
I wonder if our hands could mold sound like clay.
I haven’t found a way to look sincerity
in the golden fucking fleece
of a face and be the first
to break the gaze.
My thirst for the unflinchingly genuine
suspends judgement and forgives sins
committed in hazy tenements.
My thirst for the tantalizingly tense
derives no pleasure from this
sudden desire for your smile.
You’re not allowed behind
this picket fence.
But me, I want the cackle and grin
that you wear with such permanence.
Me, I want life.
Me, I want to circle round the universe
with an array of tethered satellites
at differing distances for the rare instances
I need the extra signal.
Because, yknow, I might: I keep them all strung tight.
I think me, I want to know what you meantby what you said last night.