Autumn marks your counterfeit advance.
Affected, we perfect the rituals of romance,
your chilled caresses burn my frozen trance.
Fondly our follied chemistry brews,
in the pounding void of a laser lit milieu,
fumbling in darkness, a unity eschewed.
If you listen to me I'll listen to you.
Deeply we drink pinhead gunpowder tea,
tongues steeped in intoxicated expectancy,
swallowing the chemical scent of graffiti.
Two for you and one for me,
through smiles seep translucent teeth,
brimming full, three shots of GHB.
If I listen to you will you listen to me?
Gills flap like fish, thirsty for the infinite ocean,
while sound waves breathe our drowning devotion.
Life is a drunken dream, careening on lovesick potion.
What law keeps my axis spinning on this notion?
We hear without listening, we feel without emotion.
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