my fingertips have longed to dance
just as my feet and hips do, as they tend to
those bone-white keys of ivory
and spinal cords of nickel and other metal alloys
have been their thrumming tracks
but somehow i fall straight through
over and over again as though it was the choreography
speak not to me of passion, nor your late ambition
pump that tempo through an IV, hypnotize me
take from me my body and i shall give it freely
to that sweet little thing you play haphazardly
i will scream those days away.
when i met you that late night, standing there alone
i gave a second glance to silhouette you cast
just to realize it was me, my very own reflection staring
intently and asking me for the pleasure to dance
as if i could have had the sobriety to refuse
the post-fancy clarity to reveal the nature of my position
but nonetheless i fell again to whims of that spent dream
never will i resist against my instinct to graciously pander
to those most vain and addictive tendencies
that leave the smudges of kisses upon my looking glasses
and the romantic sort of pain from all my tender bruises
you dance over there and i right here, and yet
we're so close as to let me feel your breath
and i sigh and i melt just from the very sound
from that look in your eyes that i know so very well
your mouth forms the words i keep wrapped within me
and i sway and i swoon just to see them upon you
as though they were that much prettier than
when you and i adorned them upon myself.
you are my anesthetic, my vindictive narcotic
for you i live and for you i die upon every piece you learn
and worst of all, as i too have begun to understand,
is the unmistakable reality that i will never be anything else
for i cannot fathom this world beyond music theory
and the lyrical poetry which i use to drown myself in each day
and so you are my fate: lonely, wandering and hopeless
twirling about in your seductive trance
of opposition to this world, abstinence against the future
that is so nonchalantly imposed upon us both
for that i cannot blame you, only succumb even further
for all your righteous philosophy and naïve ignorance
i know your rhythmic heart, throbbing in time with the earth
and the cosmic synthesizer that keeps it suspended
with the rest of this reckless universe.
revolving and imploding, infinitely dancing
the only things we can do, all that belongs to us
it's me to you, and you to me, and this song to us both
and i shall sing it all over again with your hand in mine
clasped together as though i could hold myself together
as though i could hold all of gravity together and in motion
the kind that complied with this blissful flow of energy
that travels between the two of us
a long abandoned disco, left pulsating in our time apart
that spinning silver secret descending into the spoken world:
a world with only me and only you,
my anesthetic synthesizer turning me into someone new.
