Clouds being blown on
winds of the heartless
proving that moonlight
shines best in darkness.

The warmest affection
cuts through my thinking,
spins me in circles:
drunk without drinking.

French angel singing,
harp music playing,
her here beside me:
what more's worth saying?

I won't presume to
reach out and hold her.
I hope she won't mind my
cheek on her shoulder.

From this perspective
watching her fingers
trace up the wine stem,
a soft touch that lingers.

The evening has ended,
down comes the curtain.
Who knows what she wants.
The future's uncertain.

Run, run, run,
you're gunna
run, run, run away.

Cold feet, frozen stiff, frightened of the rising sun.
Thawed out a bit, and now you're on the run.
Silver tongue talking to a golden dawn.
At the first ray of light I'm starting to see
you turn a cold shoulder, burn a bridge and flee.

Too cool for comfort. Too cool to say what you feel.
If I want indifference, I'd go try to flirt with steel.
Closed-off woman doing too much
you never quite learned how to open your heart.
Love came by, and you'd rather depart.

I'm no hunter and you're not some kind of prey.
You choose your fate and make the bed you lay.
Elusive enigma, sly little minx.
Dark eyed coquette do as you please.
I hope you know: YOU'RE SUCH A ******* TEASE.

I'm not bragging. There's magic in the things I make
so either get cooking or steal somebody else's cake.
All my life been putting in work.
I see hungry eyes looking back at me.
Look all you want. There's no taste for free.

Run, run, run,
you're gunna
run, run, run away.

If you see her, there's no need
to say a thing about me.
Any word that you say
disappears instantly...

in her blackhole heart.

Don't tell her about the music,
the garden, nor the park.
Don't tell her about our last farewell
whispered sweetly in the dark.

Don't tell her I love it when she wears
anything where gem and metal meet.
Don't tell her that I think her lips
are the perfect statement piece.

Don't tell her I spend my evenings
reading books in the living room alone.
Don't tell her I've been lain out on the couch
staring at a ceiling fan ******.

Don't tell her she can reach me.
If she wanted to, she knows 100 ways.
I'm probably a secret from her lover.
People got a lot of those these days.

If you see her, there's no need
to say a thing about me.
Any word that you say
disappears instantly...

in her blackhole heart.

I promise that thing will get clear, my love,
'though outside the storm's raging fierce.
Darkness unbroken and rain, love.
Thunderbolts only can pierce.

I promise that things will get clear, my love.
Dry off those heartbroken tears.
Patience is needed once more, love.
I know you've waited for years.

I promise that things will get clear, my love,
clear as your view from the peak.
Solitude ends with your word, love!
So with your ruby lips: SPEAK!

I promise that things will get clear, my love.
when you let go of your prayer
secretly spoke to your heart, love,
not knowing if someone was there.

I promise that things will get clear, my love,
fast as the tap of your heel.
Don't be so numb and so cross, love.
We've both got so much to feel.

I promise that things will get clear, my love,
and firm as the earth and the trees;
vast as the ocean and sky, love.
I can't wait to melt on your breeze.

I found a message in a bottle,
cracked parchment on the shore,
a brittle note crumbling to dust.
It was written in foreign words
but I recognized the sentiment
and I thought about you, love.

I thought about the oceans between us,
the continents and worlds
the time, the space, the ether,
the chains of luck and fate.

And I wonder if you're a specter,
a phantom made inside my mind,
an elusive effigy of desire
summoned on a lonely winter's eve.

I see the echo of your movement, love,
so I wrote this down to say
I just received your message
and I hope you haven't flown away.

Exalted child of Gilgamesh,
what has devoured you today?
Were you so thrown off your center
that you gnash your teeth and pray?
Be careful who you call out to,
be cautious of what becomes,
for the gods are jealous parents
and the titans eat their sons.
But, it's good to seek assistance
when the transition begins
from an isolated wilderness
to the company of friends.

I can hear the muses calling
'Though my hands are tied with work
And ghandarvas sing through cracks
Beyond the off-white office walls.
I know I should be free with them.
But instead:
Sign here,
Date there,
Keep the tally,
O reckoner of warehouse sheets!
The condition of modern slavery
Of entire paydays spent at once
While knowing that a human life
Is more precious than the profit line.