Ways to escape - September 1995
There’s no pressure for me to succumb to a need
Or reside in the court of a poacher or fiend
Don’t misunderstand in complexities hand
That a kiss is as good as a knife in the back
Give up what you are for a moment of passion
That you knew would occur from the glint of the lantern
It’s true that the wine made it all the more plain
But what am I running from?
Loneliness? Situationalisms or inept self-lossingness?
What’s the use of words in times like these?
When the tender caress is marking the time?
And moving you closer to the quiet self-scrutiny that you hate,
Thinking of ways to escape.
