Number Nine

When I close my eyes there can be flowers
there can be sweet stickiness and
there can be your eyes.
What with empire towers
falling around the ceiling emptiness
soothing wrinkles of skies
did make for these lonely hours
dreaming of the lightness
where your bloodstream lies.

When I collapse fingers to yours
fall in empty ache so dreamingly
and collide with intruding starlight,
the empty crow of lust roars
thick for toes all tingly
cooing some modest might.
Amongst seashores
afternoons ache menagerie
cupping love to bones skintight.

When you close your eyes I imagine flowers
a garden of golds for greens and
there can be your eyes.
Beaming bright rain showers
all crisp clean serene
To reprieve our destiny dies,
To cover light with ours,
To mortify machines
and steal away demise.

-Music in Regine, 2008