Blancmange – Chocolate

He fucking likes you
Enough to floor himself
Beast of burden
You his flame
 
He’s gone & going
Much for you
Hands of our clocks
Faces smiling, grinning
 
Are there any poets out there?
Without an ego
It’s like a windmill
Without its blades
 
She calms me down
Just as it should be
Then riles me up
Like a flicking lackey-band
 
I’m all torque & force
She’s gravity & space
I’m clockwork
Within her movement
 
She’s time enough
The crash of piano keys
A mad rush
Of sublime hyper-virtuosity