Handicap

I’ve noticed these percieved novelties,

Infatuated by ancient vanity.

Descendant of Eve.

A Rarity of sorts.

Coerced in the midst of love.

Where is my heart?

Locked in a chest on rainy days,

Noah’s Arc.

The sun has risen,

your eyes, lips and body-language tell a story.

Pillow talk,

Words said while laying in parallel thought.

Better days on the horizon tomorrow,

No need for a bird to chirp for land.

Loose lips leave lines drawn in the sand.

This ship has docked,

The chest is nowhere to be found.

Lost at sea as I read between the lines,

Trying to figure out this map of love.

Who can I trust?

Who can I believe?

Some say my comrades,

Yet they left what’s important to me at sea…

Which bottle will be my amigo tonight?

Ciroc, Tequila or Wine?

Chugging as if I have somewhere to be.

Truly it’s just my thoughts, the darkness and me.

Pull up…

Take a seat…

Take a sip of this long island tea…

Did I forget to mention it’s on the list of things to drink?

The weight of the world on my shoulders,

a million feathers…

Pure…Clean…White..

Dove.

Commercialize my thoughts,

and put them in a box.

-Neseknows