…as the snow melts outside the jail so does my affectation for relations. simple delve dives into sweet sighs of romanticism in this division. i scope on for a swan song of my bachelor days, looking to sweep away the days of intoxicated death dives in hive mind of recurring nightmares. i dare this soul to sit upright in flight to the tight overbearings of my future. through the days so repeatedly singing on i strive for a tighter upbringing of my souls hope for the moment. her, her, her,…stinging my bee belly into a hive rash of stashes and swallows of the bottles so fleeting. a dead love cried for and implored in my sword and dead memories trudging me through this dark day into a darker night. i search for meaning in the right song, the wrong bong, the pouring of the bottle into my throttle so festered by a pestering blistered past dashed upon the rocks. on the rocks, straight, still from the will of the distiller,…anyway to get the sweet liquor quicker into my bloodstream deeming me mad. sad reflections of meaning steaming through the night as my heart and soul lift into that dark ether of pinhole dotted nothingness. i cry on for a new tomorrow, something to borrow, to lend, a friend in the end of this sad unrequited love story. matrimony only for some but not for this bum. teeth shattered i clatter among the lost song. our little kick-roll, our little death dive, falling so far out of aspect into that deathly hallow of a borrowed time, a forgotten rhyme, a missed sign. i can still smell that sweet sticky icky prickly cologne of my home. buried in the walls after years of tears and shotgun blasts to myself and past. her ACU pants dancing in the firefight….firelight, so tight around her waist my hands demanding another second of peace. her service not put to waste but praised and acclaimed as the new GI Jane, her fame in my heart, her imprint on my soul like a toll to wake up. her. keeping me breathing in cardio-pulmonary sexuality. the memories haunting me like a deep demon i tackle her in her first snow and smear her face in icicles and snowflakes of no fake. my service woman, my embattled rattle shaking goddessship i praise thee for the weeks, days, months, and years you were dear to me and I’ll never let you go….for the snow…
