Conversational Sentiments

The curls of you engross around the nooks of my body, aching for a moment of enticement an enjoyable conversation over trivial things Listen to the whispers in the caravan eyes and stagnant Tic-Tac air on me as I try to find comfort in the bastion of beasts on a rampage You try and talk into my ear, with ill-fitting, prosey-poetry by the great king Billy Collins as if that would allow my spirit to dance around the fact that when home is in sight, my mind shifts between reality to fiction You blaze in the very essence of my wild, egotistical and self-centered fire Enter into the vast shadows of the never-nothing land where the walls are still caked in the dream of you fragments and grasps thrown away for a half a single mistaken achievement These sentiments and drives coursing aches to be awakened from your spells and magic trifle and my eyes want nothing to do with dead-stricken zones And as I continue on these barren, rocky roads on the highway I learn my path is my choosing the smoke has cleared, dawn leading the way on without the curls of you