years straining to move
like a rocket ship on strings
I get to the foot of the
do a rain dance
spin out of control
debauchery tasted like Spring inside my head
in constant need
a few exceptional hours
unfolded a filthy painting.
I would give you a full moon for that
stars on the trail up to morning.
In the mirror they may look yellow, foreboding.
I would wash the past from last night,
bring the sound of habitual promises for luck.