Stagemicrophone

I want to reach
Touch her on that swing
It axes back in tar black
Entire season lost
Limbs in limbo
Stolen

No less bright
When she comes
Out, an uppercut
See her face and faint
A cafe of nifty

Know that to approach
Appear as wanting
Promotes her trophy photo
Synthesis that grows
Growls checkmate

Pondered snipping strings
Of that salient swing
As to hap across the gap
Between our bodies
Should snap my own

To stay a metre from the screen
Clawing bright blue carpet
Once scene is seen
Means tremors

Remote is the currency of control
Buttons on my calculator
Pressed X - in darkness
The depression of mystories

I dangle anyway
Hang a touch toward her black arc
Twist whisper fallfright