Immortal Jellyfish #38
The lady is a vampire,
solitude of the empty wall,
I fill it with paint.
It is a fundamental illusion,
your orange shirt and tiny breasts,
I give another woman your chocolate.
You are fascinated by how I investigate the object,
I do not wish to merely take note
of the path of our individual reflections.
Looking for the simplest and shortest way,
you place your name upon my method,
we are becoming detached.
How I long to discover your center,
we shall allow ourselves to be led,
giving away the practical guidance.
I hear laughter in the spaces between your words,
whether to be absorbed into one of your members,
a beholding of the world.
It is because of the romantics,
approaching the meaning we are familiar with,
the view out your window makes me complete.
I am not simply retained in your memory
like a present wrapped with a colorful bow,
I am a matter of your coherent conviction.
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A mixture of superstition and knowledge,
tying the rope between the poles of foreboding,
as life-experience, power, and character.
You want to formally connect your thoughts,
to stitch them together like Methuselah,
binding the wind to the water.
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