Woke up
Can feel the blood at the back of my throat
Taste the bitter bill, swallow it whole
Machines whirring, machines glowing, machines throbbing
Blinds drawn, sun starves outside
Oh my
Eastern visitors, Modern Art, Echo and Delay
Emotions reverbarate around this body
That never had the word to say
Just words to pay lip service to a world past hate
Lip service like a retirement clock,
A commemorative plate
Lip surface to Lip surface
In a pursed kiss
The only means left to burst this bubble
Silk sheen curve disappears and we're wet
The flawed lips service purpose fully feeling our being
Alive
Where the words distance
Cold Icy Angular
No machines impede this moment, this movement we have created together
Lips lead where words fear to follow and bodies meet at the service
Of the precedent
Lips bleed where words are hollow
And our bodies echo with the evidence.
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