try.to.be.suspicious

 randomly suggesting
words for your disappearance
in times of solitude
our faces carry signals of joy
that is, until we drop and smell
the sound of the earth
that is, to be reborn
with flesh wounds
merely suggesting
paper back themes for your biography
in times of loneliness
our hearts carry signals of suspense
that is, until we rise and see
the smell of the sunshine
that is, to be dead
with a heart ache

give me a ride
in your head
i see the lights flickering
we stand amongst strangers
we touch your face
a million times a day
airplanes are traveling through fields
maybe they're your signals
but then i look
bewildered, tired and disappointed
there's no you in place
there's no me in these days

what is there,
to say, without hesitation
looking into your faceless preparation
didn't we go over things
picking up all the small things
i never agreed to asphyxiation
i should have
slept on your birth mark.(s)