I am not afraid.
Shine on your skin is like the goddamn rocket's red-glare,
And you are the bright bursting light.
Raining slowly down on the sweaty onlookers,
With their heads up and mouths agape.
Toothy smiles.
In awe.
Eyes glimmering and wide.
Your explosion, pulsing far away.
Pushing through with waves.
Splintering load-bearing spires.
Force with a blow back.
Nail scratch.
Exhale.
Detail.
I was watching you from a hilltop far away,
And I knew I'd know what you've known today.
That there's some unavoidable wall of sound,
All the way around,
From my guitar, to the ground.
To the heavens and bottomless hell,
Time and space unravel unbound.
The creases in your sheets are small satin highways for my fingers.
In a warm hazy dawn beyond.
With the curtains drawn.
Over downtown.
In a town so lucky and free,
Burning the legends,
Tickling me.
There are entire armories of endorphins firing,
Only on the spark of your desiring.
I guess I buried my reservations.
Maybe in my sleep because I don't remember the dig.
Somewhere beyond midnight.
This is the scenic route.
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