Parallel Isnt Always Good

Roads stretch
-like

Finger tips
On swelled surfaces

Pieces of you
Beneath my eyes

minutes when
you go missing

and I wish I drove more things than you insane

universes
on shoulder blades
blond hairs
on back of necks
your tongue
on the pulse of veins

dialogue goes unnoticed
when your lips
spell - cast
(lord. here I go twisted again)

it’s the desperate
that makes me call you daddy
that leads to phone
ringing
at indecent hours
…this isn’t me on the receiver
-no baby I swear-
its fingers seeking cigarettes
lonesome lips a kiss
the skin, my skin,
this fucken temperamental skin!
calls
and calls
up and down telephone poles
through wires
that spread

like roads do

and
none of them
lead to
You

ever.