Reaction action time
What you do to pull me through the reaction, the positioned postured action of devolving, evolving spiraling down to the bottomed out triangulation- That's your action... Reaction. Your step by step. No action... reaction. Placed just at the right place with sticky tape stuck with old thoughts stale air and crusty old hair stuck on your face to silence the love action that could have come... but ne'er. You avoid, you slack, you push away and back, You slur, you stir, you're curt, you cry UNFAIR To make even the field of team-playing stale, mate for your own inside-out lack that you stack the times you hurt -- against me, choke me, against you all you and all those record times of reaction.
The attack and the smack away of the new and the good- and them good ol' days -in a new way. Thats your action. Reaction. Chokeholds of no air in a room where pointed fingers stare into my face -- dare to not breathe -- in and out While I listen to you shout with no doubt- loud, as you breathe in a new reaction, of no action -- with no oxygen even for a crowd that stuns, stops and stalls and promises more times of stave offs of the begin agains ... Action. Reaction. Timekeeper, where are you? Who has the stop watch that clocks the match, the game, the mocks? The words, the labels, the tables uneven, still... I can't fight. I'm no rock, nor the cock in the morning light doodle-doing and only screwing and fighting, as cocks do... like you.
No, I have a light, an empowered light turned on by the moonlit sun that promises new days begun, yet spun with gifts of golden courageous might to grow old, up and over-not having to be right, but together as one. I take the flight up, and out of my life and whisk up the stairs to the depth in the deep dark to the breath of fresh free air to the pitch of the ebony-toned char nightlight to be with you, my partner in a midnight kind of love -- and into my mind I play you -- again, on repeat. You are the song within me, sung into me, sweet -- Your song in me with you -- oooh, my vision Out of my misery... no longer your mission. Action. Action up and away to the promised land of the everyday And of the hopeless chase, the illusion of the fusion , again, that time can't erase, yet one I must face. I wait. I wish.
I wonder through the slumber that is at best- unrest -- as my chest rises and falls to the beat you make of a heart broken off the wall like Humpty Dumpty and his great fall. In the springtime or the fall of my life waiting for an action of no reaction. Waiting for actions of utter delight Given open-handedly, most candidly in the airy free space of my bed, with room presented free, embraced by the night time of action, a- loving reaction action. Never taken back by the lack of your inside, your pride , as a continued moral deride. No more heaves of swallowed tears Or imaginings of another year.
No more wallows in the chase, the face of fear... Or fearlessness of soft action, your one-of-a-kind desired suave reaction. Hope ran dry as I reached out to the colors in your eyes, cold and cool, to leer. But I heard them calling... I did. I am free to be, oh so loved. I am free to love and receive you from above.
I am free to be gently lured into the criss and the cross of intersected strings of fuzzy, moist, potently wet life-giving earthy moss that you plant around me, in me and water, with your sweet dripping heart. I am free to be it all by the fullness of you. I beg. Still. My dream? Go find you, that true blue cool you -- the fullest you. Stop looking out, to see in. And give that to me. One Day. Any Day. Live to Give. Give to Live. Act. React. Attract. Me, in every way. Act.