my muse

every syllabyle he utters sounds like hush darling it’s only a movie with touches of pure silver i shudder there are beats pulsating and amid them bodies reach out for each other i see him beneath the cotton candy lights in a squatter nest for two 21st century james dean in a t shirt and jeans sipping whiskey like a grunge dean martin the wonder in my eyes translates to lust in the reverie of perfect shoulders and epic nights collide in the honesty of tonight grasping at the straws of coke fiends and alkies we find the trails of tears become paved with gold i want to be under his thumb under his hips under a new kind of control these romantic musings are not lost i think and in the hoarse throats of dawn i hear him calling my name  so many kilometers from the arms of the ones we crave  i drink each note in like honey in an arab’s tea  correctness is not an option anymore as i tear him away from cults and fiends and with this grip he keeps me from my chains she will not melt me they will not rule me he can consume me but it’s all good this parade of love has culminated here and for this i get down on my knees