Sporadic Monstrosities

And the truth is,
That in surviving twenty plus years,
Although in a mood that is something less than a stupor,
And a façade less then graceful,
I give your credit for originality.

And the most bottom line,
If there were such a concrete thing,
Is that I need to hand the blame to you,
The careful caress and thought behind,
Lulling me to bed and then…

When the ships turned away,
And ignored your plotting beacon,
I was still set adrift and floating unconscious towards lights,
Though those fires were your half shut eyes,
Lulling me from sleep, and then…

When running becomes difficult in the hot sand,
And we sit together and indulge in company,
Its because its easier than trying to get away,
And then being pulled relentlessly back,
Coaxed into love and then…

When all other ships avoided the course,
Of your sharp rocks and thighs,
Of dangerous tides and slipstreams,
I was just a tiny body in the fog,
Plied into lust, and then…

And the planes all channeled a route around,
Your sublime forests, and suggestive peaks,
Knowing in textbook format what I was about to learn,
Through hard facts, and with the though of escape,
That your fooling me to trust; the end…