Borrow Me

4/19/06

It's a fine air of hatred

when you taste my skin

I scramble

to find the beauty

in the piercing suggestion

that you will never

claim the time

that you will never

love me.

You divide my humor

and you multiply impulse

by an earthquake

that threatens the change

in our train of thought that strays from

our usual creamy path of independence,

that one direction I won't give up but will slow down for...

The greatest thing about wondering

is that it never really has to happen, so borrow me,

 lend my intricate feelings to

your  sorrow your angst your escape...

stamp a date on me in which I expire.

borrow me, rent me, extend me,

as I befall my heart

that silly, caged thing

upon a spine of innocence and unanswered glory.

I may never be kept

I might always be borrowed,

in which you might never be quenched.

It's not so much my loss but your thirst.

It's not so much my answer but your question.

Next time borrow an excuse

instead of me.