Risky Business

Pieces worn to a blunt end of

And here we sit,

a long drink of closeness.

Helium filled wine that mocks the bedroom tiles.

You and I, we are loose versions of pin straight neck ties.

The present time dripping of paint splattered walls, a chorus of color.

Rendered souls basking in shallow light, and intoxicating prayers of sullen pride.

You and I, we were made to be apart, or is it a part?

And you and I, we were made to leave it alone.

And just like your humble tattoo,

My word vomit will scream loud enough, so that nothing comes out.

Throwing Fireballs at Expansion

You are a safe decision to stay awake, and jittering spikes of soul entanglements.  

Our hope carelessly resting on words from friends, leaving us with a corroded kismet.

They travel the back roads and tread like avalanches under our salacious peaks of self-containment.

You are keeping close to the railing.

A blasé muse that alerts me of how my dignity destroys design.

One step to the left and once again I am struck by pangs of priming and decaying moral myopia.

You are happen chance, and hands that form like graceful words of acceptance. Once, too far, and evermore we are guided by caveats of displacement.

You are a fleck of stardust on my golden paved highway, shining with pinpricking limpidity like another galactic atmosphere. But soon you disappear like time warp, and I find yet another version of my self to render with combustion.

I mitigate the rocks by residing in the water and I leave it all to semantic uncertainty.

We are the older versions of ourselves, and indefatigable children at play.

I perch on the highest ledge, and pear into the eyes of a lion, where no amount of fire can invade.

I am to you...

By Osorje Lang

I am to you the road untraveled, and gracefully bypassed with only faint glimmers of brief simmering hope. Your paths have been blazed through with such eloquent yet shy femininity that exudes off placed desire of passion and that air of your being drew me in like the perfect line of art with a flawless contrast.

Neglected and avoided with caution signs to detour me for newer and smoother surfaces of travel, I yet remain the offset of being an unfamiliar road contoured in a tarry body of ambiguity. With regards to a saccharine nostalgia I suddenly yet briefly felt a warmth charge through the lengths of my being. 

And then I too came closer,

However, I remained enthralled in the sweetness of that moment, totally engulfed with peek sensory and eyes wide shut viewing your frame and fragmented smile outlined with vivid red lipstick in my memories. 

But now remembering the coarse joke that fell from my lips, and you retorted “why do you have to bash me?”                                                                                                                                                                     

That was the last time you slept in my arms, it was only a faulty attempt at courting, and now I use 

the term courting as though suitable for what is now popular culture; I’ve yet to correct my faults.

Traveled many times by other curious motorist of life I have experienced erosion,    

even some travelers have traveled partially on me to whom I don’t know as friend or foe

Still you detour and follow more well-kept roads

Now I am sure to accept that only golden paved roads are the ones you know.