Pencil Shavings.

From the highest
of heights,
and smitten flight,
everything is feeling right,
Then another round,
of profound hindsight,
a different view,
of your new taillights,
Good for an itty bitty,
pretty shitty pile,
the rusty revolution,
of a rickety turnstile,
a lusty evolution,
hardly worth my while,

wicked smile,
unsubtle grin,
Up and down again,
Push and pull me in,
Noone ever wins,
In this situation,
Light switch lottery,
slip-shift personality,
Which one of these,
faces will you be?
Wide awake and angry,
Sweet and sour and tangy,
Emotional and lazy,
Contextual and crazy,

I pick my cards,
and ride them hard,
in that regard,
the pride is hazy,
a heart carved of stone
droll, cautionary tone,
my heart travels on,
beyond the home I know,
of one face that you show,
to quench the craving,
replacing the stars,
that shine above you,
erasing the hearts,
and lines of “I love you”,

A pencil’s shavings,
greyscale shading,
contrast prevailing,
after-images fading,
slight ideas invading,
this void which binds,
such a vessel of mine,
aware of strict confines,
a bold and hand drawn line,
put there in the sand,
to force a play and
Sway, win the hand,
a hollowed, empty man,

An ancient summit shrine,
dedicated to,
the evening skies,
relecting colors of my eyes,
my state of mind,
with relished time,
At first inquiry,
things seem to be,
well and upswinging,
bright and cheery scenes,
then fire that’s fizzling,

Jokes and giggling,
pokes and tickling,
My mind’s,
alert vigilante,
disparate feelings,
high and fluttering,
soon I’m sputtering,
and the very next night,
someone’s mean and uptight
chasing moonlight,
nothing feels right,

Paranoid whispers,
deluded tongue twisters,
explosive transistor,
in my chest set to blow,
how didn’t you know?
Venomous or jealous,
Dissident and zealous,
Non confident and dim,
Which one will be Him.