Analysis of Epiphany of a Kiss

Time, they say, is all we have..or sometimes, need.
So it’s time I 7got up and left you.. good bye.
That’s what I want to say.
But I wait for five years before I do.
What a waste of here and now. There it is again.. time.

Time stripped our love into shreds: of battling rivalry and despicable malice.

Forgotten, forlorn lies.  
In truth. How much we matter.
The true story alert.

Watch the clock..does it part from punishing us_  it takes a hand to the 6.. bends it out of shape and places it back in the hole where a click- clop, chic hop, pop rock, stop watch clock stop.
Big wand.
Big Ben.
Stop the clock now.

Forgotten, forlorn lies.  
In truth. It

How much we matter.
The true story alert.

Want to know what I think love is?
It’s seeing you as soon as I can.

Running further towards you, coughing
My smoking is getting bad.

It’s creamy dessert and dreaming of hot coffee.

Smoking cigarettes in the morning and playing drums in the afternoon.
And now the downward dog. Iyenga is difficult but not as much as you pooh yooh.

I dream of departure. It’s a good bye to me, see you through this hellish night then go.
Forks out. The knives put away. Here comes the future of her tear down and snap shot of a day in the gardens. She’s pulling on the emotional strings. Doesn’t get to me

She says she can change me. But do I want to be changed?
I’m immune totally immune.

Now you got me. You’re going from me. Moving.  I'm

Forwarded to her relatives. For nothing else but to have pity on someone else’s life. This is how it goes: beginning of the end.

Waning, wanting, weaning off the touch of you; your hands, softly goading me on to more.  

For time is the keeper of good will.
Reeled off into space, in universal algebra. It

Stars in sight, bitten by a meteorite that crashed over Texas.
Help me to understand the value of a viper, sniper, the rattlesnake. Why snake at all? Is it your eyes, green with envy, blue pupils, snakey, dilated. And you say I am the heroin user.
Tip of the course, I almost stumbled there. We never connected.

Tomorrow is with us.
You tell the story of how we met. A version.

Last week at the pub.  How embarrassed was I by your hollow statement of confidentiality that we never had.
How dare you take our daring, darling drug of love and miss the first chance to do the melody of mood it deserves. For love needs to be cherished. Take it by the hand, memorise it.
But it swings in time to the record and drawers a string.
Spaces out to the tripping tops.
Of pops jocular fops on the radio.
Come dance with me.
Music to move to, make up your own. Name.

Its fabric made of leather, like the bikers down the street. Remember them? Splurging, grunging background sounds to our get togethers for a dinner party. How pathetic.
Never did like them.

Got to go. What’s the reason.  Tomorrow. Early morning start. At 8pm?
I splatter it out. Indeed.

It’s me you are talking to. Not some jumped up Gameboy lover, PlayStation goer, grinboy and the group below us looking at the plates emptied by the dishwasher.
Are we unaware of the inner being? Are you a self starter, motivator, gun slinger, ranch cowboy? In my head I think you are, sometimes.
Then what are you, am I? Past reflections.
Dance, trance, techno. A group of people are making music: doing better than both of us. This is where you find  soul.
Not anymore.
That’s love for you. Togetherness. Get togetherness, forgetfulness, gratefulness cum spiteful. That’s an add on. Addict. Chiding me like a good wife does. Making me to be a sinner, failure, forerunner to be next in line to the best one for the job.
Now that is a winner. For your party of nine.

Ground. I want to be on the ground. Not 6 feet under. On I said.  

Just above and floating around the ether. In the trees. Grilling growing goading goaringly Horatio Alger helped me learn.
Garden’s love grass valley weald.
Greenwood, thicket,  elfin, sprite masked in the air; so fresh.
Amber shine ever since I went to the pasture.

Vacant, tramping it up to the bottom of the ocean.

I love freedom.

To be. Free verse, free trees, agrees to be free for the poetry verse.
Version of love. Is it going to be a great, historic catepult into the fit.
Mix all in.
Draw back the needle. Watch the dark blood emerging. Into the fit. So easily. Push it in slowly.
Free feel the rush. Red face, hot here, heart beating, head fed, sped up colliding within life’s journey before, below. Up and go. It’s free fall for everyone.
.
To play with the dense fog black and red flowering plants chirping feathers afloat the sparrow’s beak. It’s a sylvan, freeze boscage.  
For everyone.

Snippets of a meth lab, heroin by the side of the table, alcohol before the morning run to the pub.
Not anymore.
All gone.
Though the heavens opened and I saw the  textured hallow entry to the gates of the Lord above I swear I saw Jesus on the street just two days later.
I have had a great gig in my head since

To play with the dense fog black and red flowering plants chirping feathers afloat the sparrow’s beak.
It’s a sylvan, freeze boscage.  For everyone.
To be able to please you.
I never will.
Look at me?
Do you see the whole picture? Or just a clip.

Clocks, space in time for us to bear.
Standing closely to the mantle.

Take a look at this picture.
What is wrong with it?
Am I the same?
Or have you changed me..