A Picture Holds A Thousand Words #5

I’m lying. I’m a lion. The domain        
of a circular way out. A moon          
is behind me. The rest of the field          
is domesticated.          
           
Somewhere, the bitumen complies          
the sole, then goes home with it,          
anything to get away from the motion          
sickness of the ocean. It’s a bit loco          
           
and clingy,          
the persnickety bedaub,           
the way we go on,          
the oil rig like a planet           
           
off the beach. Along the shore,       
the same escaped mote of tar          
the size of a plate you can moor from.          
It has a rainbow sheen bite on offer          
           
with lips the men like: dark slash adorable.      
It seems a blackhole would look like this,        
slow rising spumes, not popping, faces     
multiplied- it wants to keep all of us. It sucks      
    
the time out of travel. I’ll book a cave to breathe          
together, but this time,          
it’ll be an aquarium,          
this time, it’ll be a vacuum. But only if you’re going          
           
to be here on time. These          
microaggressions          
are conic, me at one          
and the station at another.          
           
There’s no soil here to count on          
yet I’m lying in wait. Orion’s near-by          
with a cure, the sum of suns are here          
to curry our favor, or mine at least          
           
since you’re still on the sonic, something        
so fast it left behind a signature.          
The minute you arrive          
will incur a tint of rum, the belt          
           
of sixty seconds means nothing here.          
It'll be frozen in amber that drips drunk          
and ancient down the icon          
between automatic and platform.       
           
Will we lick each other          
until our centers resemble          
a parable of the safari city?          
Pits spit and beans talk.          
           
Plains and notions. Needless,          
you were rooted somewhere          
between Penn Station and locust warnings. You           
ordered coffee and laid the lip print angle    
    
towards the window. Circumspect rituals    
of betting men. You stir, you circus,    
you current locomotion mourning the sunsets    
because there is sunrise on the ruins.

In hopes again.
What’s daydreamed will surface sometime.
Dressed up to the mirrors approval.
It’s only me that should matter to myself.
Future visions of tomorrow at times rush the moments of right now.
Constant expectations have butterflies in the stomach aggravated.
Moments waiting quietly bring peace amongst everything that must be done.
As long as the lights are shining I know it’s on its way here.
Finally when it’s arrived stress has subsided into a healing calm.

‍‍
‍Take me anywhere  
beyond where the known  
is etched in our hearts
I want to feel the oncoming adventure
deep inside my veins
and blow a kiss goodbye  
to the world that was  
 
Don't you know tomorrow
is weightless in its endless wonder
don't let yesterday hold us down  
in mirror image retribution
let's smash the glass  
of what we'd become  
if we stayed on this platform  
waiting for better  
 
If they say life is what we make it
I'd rather live it with you drifting among the stars  
than with my feet pinned to the ground
in dreamless solidarity
 
So take me anywhere  
beyond where the known  
is etched in our hearts
I want to feel the oncoming adventure
deep inside my veins
on the 8:20 train to anywhere but here