you have no idea the time I waste.

..in looking for untraceable objects.
in lifting and bending,
in peering and sweeping,
that jigsaw must be somewhere nearby.
the ends are so jaggedly cut,
such strangers to each other that a mason
could work stronger magic with wool.
and in the end,
it seems that beginnings should not have occurred.
a tattered and worn, water-weak smile
will still wind its way to my face,
but its vigor is weakened, a beach sunrise now muted to
the secluded middling of watercolor.
"if you were not real i would have invented you, were
days the length of years i'd never die."
our words boasted far more intercourse than our
hesitant bodies.
a seamless slip of swift escaping breath.
am i wrong to stay this long or rude to leave you
in this mood?
i'm not sure.
i have never planned a watertight success.
you have no idea,
not a clue, the selfish selfless things i do.
the tragedies that i devise
that never leave my head of lies,
the fancy things i'd give to you,
freshly stolen, all brand new
and cries, cries reverberate and bellow like a tuneful
mourning come without the sun.
you've no idea
not a saline taste,
no notion at all of the time i waste.