Wrenley

Your face an empty zone, very far from ecstasy, tells all I need to know, far away from real time, in the daily conspiracy, my life stutters in lime, your mouth a cruel loan, shaken words my destiny, but keep me on my toes, I drink a little wine, therein somewhat ease, each new pain to climb, every lie a toothcomb, shadows of sweet honey, sugary as a stone rose, our house near the tide, bottom of a sandy road, prison of differ kind, my body lists and groans, begets some new fantasy, my angel's coming home, will find another me.