See Saw

See Saw

In the fading colors of a triad of midnights breaking completion, you call me

In a profession of alien ant jaws piercing away at your internal compass

Needle spinning out of control and teetering on severing at the uninterrupted

Head to your pillow on a Wednesday with my voice perceived in a distance

Faded into a purgatory of muteness censored by undefined times

Sharp like sobered tongues of a foreign insect body birthed and wandering

In the crevices of that which you hold most dear like an antibody to loneliness

Ejected and replaced with a vulnerability to invite me and that seesaw

Potential for love into your being like an open portal for the good and the

Counterweight in exacting patience carving like chalkboard fingernails

At the question if a ringtone will sound like a beacon reconstituting the

Genesis of a faith like a specter to a susceptibility to infiltration

Is haunting you in a want to connect with me, missing the proximity

Of the part of yourself that you have surgically removed and replaced

With a component of me, failing to see where that extracted component

Has found refuge in my thoughts of you segregated from your consciousness

By work patterns and daily routines that are evolving and your apparent

Absence in the convulsions of these midnight iterations slams that seesaw

Of faith to a rumbling thud of where am I am where is he with his head

In a cloud miles away on the distended end of this grounded lumber

Imputing the apparent silence as a message in a bottle lost in an ocean

Between us fearing the worst, however this fated glass has never left my beach

But meditated in the peaceful pasture of this blue sky plateau in readiness

That the schedule of our days will again intersect in the balance of this seesaw

Level eye to eye and cheek to cheek, breast to breast and we to meet

In skin and savior, piece complete that that absent part in us has found its sleeve

The routine of then and now, tomorrow and somehow knowing where this is going

That will disassemble this playground apparatus of recessed overtures

Of map quest miles and I-12 exits, sacrifices and barters of beliefs

That there is a place that we will stand as one and meet in this stage into the next

I have faith in you to take this bet, and see me now for all that I am

Even if Jack has climbed the bean stalk, a piece of me is in your stance

Beating and thumping inside of your chest, exchanged and bartered

And I have no regrets, to be this man that is choosing you, not for solace

But because of who I know you are as I nest in the feathers of your aortas

Riding like water slides in the days of the portals, my body may not been there to see

But in the absence of each other the oxygen drains and rides that rail back in the veins

To refuel in the place rich in us, so often encompassed by the syringe digits of touch

Vaccinating antibodies released, reminded of the greater part granting this peace

And in this we stand in balance