pickled daydreams

I'm starting to hallucinate
no, no more breaks! it's getting late!
Don't fake your fate.
You'll break your mate.
Just make it, make it-
kiss and wait.

Kiss and wait!?
That awful trait?
When I can't even break your plate?
that sickle shiny briny hate
But darling? Can't we masturbate?

No, not unless you'll stay up late.
And wait,
and wait,
(it's worth the wait)
'Cause I can't let you
conjugate.

Unless, your fingers pry and sate
just reach inside to satiate.
And ohmigawd- my Father's fate.
To catch a daughtered
grin elate!

Just blow me out
I'll vib-erate.
Silk skin ablazed- infatuate.
I HATE! I HATE!
THIS CLOCK'S MY FATE!

But darling Time, please hold this date,
and wash its summer's sun create
to cherry women impregnate.
and babes taste sweet to lick the pate

AND DAMN THESE BIRDS THE MORN AWAIT!
and this might always be my fate.
Keep dancing to my hip heart rate.
Belligerent this morning state.

You got a divorce so I married you.

It's not goodbye,
it's just goodbye.
But I have watched you
like a Swallow's nest.
Like a mother never sleeping.
Like the oh-so-many other things
I should have done
instead.

It's not the tears that fall,
it's the frozen ones that stall.
But I have glazed
the broken china plates.
And I have given you to Heaven.
And I have given you to Hell.
To change your mind into
just that.

It's not uncertainty,
It's just uncertain.
But I'm the cold and bitter
morning I've let go.
Morning the loss of your darkness.
Morning your distant growing light.
And in this dusk we'll never read
your roadmaps.

It's not that you're going,
just that you're going.
But I will steam the shirts
and starch them caked in salt.
And stitch our paths together.
And know why you didn't look back.
For I was never
Mama Crocker;
Martha Stewart.
And I can say, "Goodbye."