Rattle my spine.
Riggle the chain
Take down the fences, put down the reigns.
Drive out the counters
Bring in the booz
Amplify senses, dense up the mood.

When you leave, I’ll be pleasantly spent.
Clumsily dressing, cradle the dent
When you go, I’ll be hopelessly moved.
Resculpting the memory, each wrinkle, each groove.

The drunk night is falling, falling on us.
How does one capture? No matter. No fuss.
Forget all the whys and all the how comes.
Surrender all loves to the rise of the sun.

Through senses that waken,
And watches that mend,
Our passion unfolds into the mold of old friends.
Whose paths intertwine and part now and then.
Revisit the places where dreams comprehend,
The matters of heart, flight, immersion.
The space between careless and careful erosion.
Peel back the layers of our inhibitions to welcome the ebb of heated contradiction.

When you leave, I’ll be pleasantly spent.
Clumsily dressing, cradle the dent
When you go, I’ll be hopelessly moved.
Resculpting the memory, each wrinkle, each groove

The eventual settling of wild whirling leaves,
Nestles to dust under twisted old trees.
Mild mannered weather kicks it up lazily so,
Yet, consistently enough, our brokeness grows.
Soaked up in roots of winding branched trees,
To smile at the sky upon newly born leaves.

The sun sets with colors aglow, pink and hot orange
It soften the blow
Of the slowly dying day and the birth of good night.
The same shadows emerge growing darker in spite,
of the looming old moon looking over the world,

watching falling down fences,
Pull down defenses,
Bring round again,
The sweet drunken night.