French Bistros

Crackling like lightning the scent of rainy sundays and sweaty youth enters my lungs like undesired medication foot steps and introduction of generations and blood lines fills my head like crazy family stories This time of night reminds me of you I walked past the french bistro and absorbed young skins and loud jazz rumbling like a giants soulful baby I watched day turn to night and rain drizzle upon this illuminated darkness of melodies and heart grabbing stares Paranoia captured my follicles and I swear that man on the train with poka dots and stripped hands looks like you I walked past the french bistro as my hair began to gather the memories of the year and the world seemed to mirror my thoughts this time of year reminds me of you I remind me of you I keep waiting for a newness to enter my heart so Im not chained to my love for you I forgot all our times together because they remind me of wine dipped, swollen, broken hearts of mine wanting to grow and develope more then ever I only revert back to ghosts of reality The bone marrow inside of me was stolen by santa and each joint of my body has gained such a heaviness its hard to get up from pillows of dusty broken skin cells Shoulder whipped and ankles cold lonesome electricity pipping in darkened roofs hooved horses bellowing below me whispers of cloud catching voices that aren’t you and hands that roughen me toughen me lost to the shell of you lost to the sparked foutainhead that spouts your linguistic melodies in my head like torterous hellish key board clicking ticking me away from existence jumbled in condenced barren faces desolate land erupt me oh places places places that feed me into monstreous children forsaken silly folly I forbid you to drink me dry darken me so leave me lonesome take me holy Thought I heard you whisper but it was only the mosquito sucking my rotting blood This part of me reminds me of you