Poems i can handle
but i'm not so great with faces
names and places
may slip my mind
from time to time
i guess i have my head up
in the clouds
or staring down
at the crowds
the host of golden people
shut out from the steeple +
the church manor spire
illumined with desire
but painted black
to hide in shame
the fun + frivolity
of lust-inspired games
the world is just not
the same
as it used to be
or at least that's what i'm told
when i try to distinguish myself +
break out from the mould
but i'll make a note
to remember you
(whoever you may be)
cushioned by your infamy
a drop in the water
a shimmering reflection of
who i oughta +
one day might become
if i can find a way to
inject a little fun
into the night's proceedings
into this night's meeting
of minds + souls
whose beauty
i can pay tribute to
but whose names
i cannot recall
