how not to change a light bulb

There’s a ghost writer rewriting the words
of my deadbeat narrative
where everything interesting happened
an eon of yesterday’s ago

My introspection swirls blackly
towards tomorrow
never quite forgetting that truth is subjective
and my heart only knows less than half the story
of every sordid entanglement that I let flow
through my now frigid veins

‘Cause we’re all co-authors of our own insanity
though it doesn’t take two to change a light bulb
it takes just one to see the light
where love doesn’t come with prison bars
and conditions of entry

Tonight I’m eighth in line to your throne
the scene to be etched into a lithograph
of past and future conquests
my face unreadable and forgotten
holding the fabled amaranth out to you
in undying love, as imaginary as this chemical reaction

Tonight the story overflows
with the sickly sweet pastries of rotting vegetation
and I remember all I’m not
instead of all I am
because I’ll still be everything without you

There’s a ghost writer rewriting the words
of my deadbeat narrative
where everything interesting happened
an eon of yesterday’s ago
and today’s sunrise will become yesterday’s memory
of a life chasing coat hangers instead of hearts
that talk

© Indie Adams 2013