Scribbles

Lonely nights are nights in an enormous bed, missing heartbeats.
Reaching out in the sweat of a nightmare, turning to cuddle emptiness.
You breath in faster and faster, blood moves as a river in spate.
Pumping you higher, taking you where you want: imagine
Imagine what.

You want nothing yet you have an unquenchable thirst, a greed.
So feast your lavish lusts in the meat called empty promise.
Or feed your appetite in my arms.
I have in me a desire of dreams that need never be empty.
Sexual and loving, crossroads on an empty moor.
This and more I have, if you need, if you dare.
To believe concentrate on the words, uttered in love, spoken in truth,
Under no pressure.
Ring them and wonder in their sound, in their newness,
In their promise, how can they lie and remain.

Still its not enough to break the bond, driven deep.
Its not enough to drown out any last gasp pleas,
Allies of pride in a conflict of words, ha Perjury.
So remain with the animal stuffing itself on pity.
Trace you steps back to your doubtful love.
But run, going backwards is never easy.
Each step is commitment, a bow in the knot to bind you.