Cherry-green eyes, a leftist bent, not too far though;
listening to Alisha Keyes, sipping a martini, a slight chuckle—to venture where it ends.
I’d be over there, pontificating, philosophizing,
dungeon minded, exposed so early to color.
Upon synchronism, into a thought, mesmerized by de ja vu—
discussing where power dwells.
Marooned it seems, polishing skies, a woman giving hopes; reminiscent upon trenches, trying to remember to smile, systematic affliction, loses, a man carries his cross.
Those delicate features—those cryptic gazes—made unreal, made universal: fighting against waves, trying to tame oceans, such a controlling nature … sudden to surrender, certain surreal passions, walking a road, heeding a desert, knitting a message.
