Blue

This new world is kind of wild,
the binding of Gods  
smoked silver on lungs,  
you behind eyes.  
 
I'm in the body of a stampede,  
rampaging through village lanes,  
they don't stop.  
 
I write it out twice,  
delete the lines,  
write again,  
want to give words to the anarchy,  
want to give words to the end.  
 
The way it feels without you,  
honey on lemon and lime,  
hazardous sweetness and sour.  
The foul back of a hand.  
 
It's a high from the hazy arguments,  
an active kind of lazy.  
A hunger for you -  
stings like the blues.  
 
It's a wonderful world, this.  
Variation all the time,  
breathes fresh energy,  
the way legs move,  
bodies past booked tables.  
 
I used to imagine people like you,  
now I inhale their company,  
by a radiator,
recreating the taste
of virginity.  
 
It's a hunger for you lately,  
one you'll never know,  
an active kind of lazy,  
stings a colour blue.