C.C.

i spent a rainy sunday morning
evening the tone of my voice
while you danced around from room to room
Claiming you felt a change
reimagined yourself after meditation or feng shui
you always swear you feel different
Though nothing has happened yet

i get tired of following you
as im sure people often do
So i offer to rearrange your records
by new or old pressing
whatever that means
always lacking the prowess to fill any social scene
and i think about making promises i often wouldnt by choice
then feeling insecure under the noise
i preoccupy myself

you run around with some shameless need for eccentric perfection
hang art the way i hang nooses
as i drink more coffee than you can stomach
and thumb through your collection of poetry lazily
compare myself to everything
come up short of what i really need
i am more hungry for admiration than honesty

so i have been your lover longer than i have been your friend
because i know its easier than anything we could have actually wanted
you hold your paintings up and i cannot imagine you as a separate being
and do not wish to
only hold you at a distance
the timeline is a maze of reckless attention
some cynical phase of passive intentions