pancakes

and my words have mouths when i speak them
those pretty creations, violent vibrations,
calling out calling you home.
but the air is gentle and elegant,
above the stillness of the world
even the wind has paused
and the skies lie in an afterblue
we hover over streetlights
over premature tomorrows
and through static we wait
dancing in stillness
dreaming on choreograped breaths
we're late, yet lovely in waste
come morning light; come!
gaze down roads of reparation
even though they always stay the same
the rain pounds harder
hides us from ourselves
with ugly little faces
morphing into something else.
we swim in syrupy heartscapes

i almost hear you laughing,
grinning wide as a mad hatter
or i might just be wishing
you, an excuse to rewrite myself
till the last drop of fear in my bottle dries
signing the complete erasure of any time left
to admit
why love fought such a battle
and just let you sketch my perfection
because i am the una(muse)d
and truly, it's all about
how the misfits rise above
the blank centrefold,
mannequin pose
while we dance under
falling pieces
of neon chaos.