My heart toothlike aches with your polite diction
To be so unfeeling all the time would strain the plot
Of any science fiction
Morning stumbles over the dawn
Attempting to envision a chameleon sighing variously neon
Chapped lips embrace a cigarette
A white knuckle grip about coffee
That passes over your perfect smile
Swallowing bitterness so sweetly
To a case of either or, a lone bottle
Is another whore
Currently I’m adrift
Says the objection to the self
Leatherbound on the shelf
Futility: the heart is a useless passion
Mere contradiction
Reflection strains the plot of any flawed fiction…