I try to fixate on the mathematics
That lie beyond the fresh fields of sine waves
That take up flight in the space between
The molecules that are the atoms
That are my Hippocampus
Feel your exquisite lack of pleasure
Burn deep inside the convex canvas
Of this Hypothalmus beta campus
I keep track of the years
By counting the rings on my sawed-off dreams
And your pheromones swim upstream
To spawn with my imaginary relationships
I'm your gypsy-
Swimming in anxiety's stain glass suicide
Stealing sideways glances
Like a love-lost Matterhorn
All my peaks are really just tall valleys
Is it crazy to believe
I'm not up my own alley?
Like the air of love's frostbite corporate
I'll meet the matters and let my meals
Bless the unfortunate
Sort out the sordid proportions
That become the propensity
Of my parent's first-born orphan
(© copyright 2011 Bob Fiedler)
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