Apartment 209

 The apartment was on the eleventh floor
Clean smooth carpet, wine we will never touch
Promise of everlasting views and slow dusks
MMm those slow dusks

Saxophone obeys and letters form words that go insane
Big view of the mountains enough to make me faint
Seeking the blue clouds dragged off

The smell of fresh fabric Painting the future from where I sat
Door man smiles million dollar teeth pleasant artifical I need that

False formal edges of the city cure me I dare you
Maybe I can get enough crude comfort too
reclining on the balcony oxytocin stew

Semblance of the normal suits and dresses
Saxophone blasts me alive but deaf
Some semblance of obscured figures walking forward

Into the eye of my imagination, give me the best
To lullaby me while gin tonic lays on the chair rest
Solitude talks me into it, lay back deep sun salve salve!

I came to the city with nothing
Changed the record for a few tracks
But ill leave with nothing
But the burdens on my back

Nothing but smirk and charm
keys to the eleventh and a local farm
Where giants stay up nights to dream
Then sleep and slip deeper unperplexed
Like slow mindnumbing lushious sex

Eternally burning until it becomes blood
Until it powers the battery to the building's power
Wakes me to destiny, makes my chest hair flower
soft fabrics to hands, provoking all glands
Soft skin to tongue

undisturbed dreams sleep throws
Big landscape shaped windows
Invited to live again all senses honed
More lives than a blue zone

More luxury than the modern throne
Eternally burning like those street lights below
Where pedestrains look up and get a glimpse

Steel and rock sculptures the rest of the art so flimsy
neverending spirit popping in and out of these walls
Coloring these words this sophistication calls

So far from from my original ink
never hooked into my thinking
Podering turns me out like a trick
A choreographer that falls and pretends to sit

My mind scales the rest of the building up to the twentieth
My invitation to live between my teeth the pirate cutlass agrees
Open one of those top floor windows tomfoolery
 and bathe in the thick upholstery

But feel the beat of a small city in the vein
blue unseen red on the mean street signs
Painting the brain in this apartment I call mine

 this new place 209