the ships have sailed, nub-lorn, solo gray-haired and quickly aging the skin is withering on the face without siesta pillows facing in the morning glass, see a wimp surfs subscription sites for nub the light saber now wordsmithing limp and cannot raise above seeing pain mapped in the moue the teeth now dwindling few blue-light rings about the eyes growing dim without a clue met this peach on the silver screen voluptuous and full of smarm her face looked clear the pixels squeezed with a guitar she mooned me warm her screensaver now my startpage pandora streams cam room songs we pm'ed the night in shades of gray just for me she rides her thongs the electric-eye is on the desk she distillates me by the sight danced and sang til the bird-song light just for me threw out the night schmoozing with her crooning voice fibrillating the pink-stem fruits from this my kinghood tips she quaked— her siren voice like flutes wheedling me to cross the bridge through the looking-glass privi door then i woke up to an empty screen and missed my brain cells more and this is how i'm the tumbleweed the insomniac by a moonscape aching buying tokens lines my prune-like face now, for me, with bongo she's waiting 4.4 10/10 © Brian Peter Hodgkinson rhyme
The Crooner With Guitar
06
May