I can't help but see it all now:
The dance of dominance and the submissive
Rites– like a muzzle for the face of love.
And a small script written for your sons
And daughters. I am the bar-fly swatter.
This awkward and mindless game of predictable outcomes.
Don't mistake my yawns for love songs.
The color-blind daughter of the oil
Painter and the tone-deaf son of the cellist:
Won't you tell us of the love that brought you up?
You said the thought of me wore you so thin,
Was I the reason you stopped eating again?
To buy you a drink and to take you
Home, there was a knight in rusted armor
Right on cue and playing safe, you held your breath from car to lake
Check your phone and paint your face.
It's a farce and a fairytale.
It makes me feel
Regular and domestic to love on others terms
And outlines, the definitions of the unexceptional
To love like a kite-string in a bad storm: tense and conductive.
To break and fray like the rest of the rats in the race.
Turn ceilings to storms and lose yourself in the throes
If it takes all that we are to find a
Heart and home, well that's how we'll go.
Does it feel like this part's been
Played out? Like you've been here before?
Stuck in a snowglobe, 20 years now, getting shook-up.
The headlines on their faces say it's absolutely greener,
But all I see is concrete so I'm not sure what they mean.
How does it feel?
I made you feel so
Regular and domestic to love on others terms
And outlines, The definitions of the unexceptional
To love like a kite-string in a bad storm: tense and conductive.
To break and fray, break in wild winds and carry to the irregular.
The domestic who live inside of terms and
Confines will love the way that's expected.
Like a month to be paid.
Another crack in the paint.
Another bird that sings its song of
Flight but lives its life of powerline days.