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Maladies of a Commuter
August 18, 2009
My chest feels heavy:
breathing is filtered,
stomach on an unbalanced axis
and I crave
you.
Head is sore
from dreaming the morning away.
Eyes feel coiled...
from
being
tangled
by
labyrinths
trying
to find you.
Fingerprints are numb
for they need yours to keep them
simmering with identity.
My body is aching,
unfurling from drone
metamorphosis
and I need you to stay
in my thoughts
in my heart
in my pocket.
You can't leave just yet.
I don't like things to end,
before they begin.
Being ephemeral
is for butterflies...
not for people who desire
consumption by them.
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