petsitting for pavlov (poet or prisoner)

as he sits, he begins. no plot. no script

delusion in hand, longing in heart, I remain a boy with something to lose, a poet with a muse, a lover in his prime

caught in the in-between of "who am I?" and "don't look at me". stuck in the middle of "sorry to bother" and "I miss you terribly"

take my wit, take my words, leave me aching, keep me writing, age my love like wine, just free me from my jar

I want to be as crazy as I appear. if I knew any better, I'd wear my life vest, but if I knew any worse, they wouldn't let me on the boat

like words sung, like villains hung. I hear your heart and I hold it like a gun. it may be self-defense but in the end, I'm still a vampire soaked in blood, but how I love being a bloodsucker with you.