The window creaks,
Moans, and regurgitates my thighs as I slip past,
Lubricant grasp, scrape knuckle to knuckle,
Shamelessly stale --
The receiver's swinging at the hips of a stranger.
Memory, memory, memory,
In a falsetto I screech vividly.
You've pardoned me,
Prayed for me.
I've been drunk on the emotions of a sculpture.
My choice, it was, to
Lead you (onto) the cliffs,
the ghost giggled.
I'm leaving, leave, live –ing.
With small talk and a Webster's Dictionary.