belladonna, o deadly nightshade
are you like Atropos
who choses how we die
well, in these early morning hours
full of half-lives, assignations and irresolvable questions
I delve into the pool of your eyes
nightswimming, happily drowning
marking time with you, every second I am willing submit
flailing, flailing
falling, fawning
entertaining such flights of fantasy and idiocies unimaginable
in the time before you
just to sit with you, water's edge to feel your pulse quickening
waiting for the right time
waiting for the real time
waiting for the next time and the last time
I just like to watch your clock ticking; these time differences.
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