Past.  Yes, but what does that mean?  The seeds of…whisper no more to me.  So complacent with the vacancy and the common renders we uncommonly close.  Like brothers though you are not one.  I am born of flesh – you of thought.  Personified, not…inanimate animals objectified via personalized metaphors.  Analogous, comparative to completion – raw and broken I scream. 

It’s not that I don’t know you – I just have no song for my tears.  We flew to the moon in a rocketship of dreams – fading in the waning moments of sleep.   Clearly unfocused – gluttonous in our desires – stripped of suited reasons.  We could change, but the song remains the same…come dance with me.  A lonely road crowded with strangers, strangely seems serene to blistered nerves – reverberating with echoes of a song once sung.

Intentions of pain were never aimed in your direction, you cover the horizon…even my zenith points in your favor.   Proverbial, provincial, provocative – bordering neurotic invocations of projected purpose; erotic in existence – I died for your life.  Through this – you carry me, packed on backs like mules.  Lustfully caravanning over sand dunes, waiting on the reappearance of mirages – geared to illicit false hopes. 

I heard you, I just didn’t respond.  You spoke to me, in your way, and I listened to you – in my way.  As you spoke, I thought.  When you fell silent, I knew that you could no longer hear me.  My thoughts were lost in the cavernous wells of our mutual desire.  You crave what I am – I crave you.  There can be no middle ground…we occupy the same space.