Left At The Altar

I had the visual.
no solid blueprint to prim the land... because,
the thought... alone. was a little too deep. a little too sensual.
more than what You were capable,
the foundation. a little too firm. and the project. a little too extensive.
so I guess I'll suck it up and flex my flexibilities on time and dates... and push for extensions,

it's pointless to keep the visual when the reality is... DE.NIED ASCENSION

(laughing) you get to feel the joy with... my pain
and then you claim... and... I blame... and wherever your love-muscle desires to aim.
I hate to face the fact that you can't make me happy in this frame

I've role-played and pretended,
grammy-award winning housewife and freak... I got it... I comprehended...
whatever the weather calls for...
committed. to so many roles... "who... was. I. suppose to be? again..."
behind-the-scene
stunt doubles and dummies, props and whatnots
when in actuality, the main role was "puppet"...
and you were the strings consorting my frolic

but yet... hydrangeas and rose petals dance on some pretty stem
and... calla lillies all bunched together
while...
solid color patterns flex under some temple's trim
while... scenic backdrops click quick pics through this kaleidoscope plated in my head
and once I let down my hands...
the plans...

I can't force the dream on life's palate
and You can't come to terms with what goes good with a salad
like...
the chapters are so far spred
and...
the climax never reached the bed

and...
a force field of confusion led to... some epidemic... they say...
a widespread of bull's shit... from what I hear they call it...
and...
the honest truth of... maybe you're really suppose to get fucked this-a-way

and...
if we interpret the history of the equation,
everything add's up to get-the-fuck-a-waytions...
from...
the haunting and taunting of  lover quarrel invasions,
past divisions between... what's equality... and what's... not... really...
trying to square root a problem already solved...
cause your gut says that:  if you multiply what's in the parentheses... first...?
but the book says the answer's only reveal the ODD...


in the back...
a devotion of times, tables and shackling sheets...
mixed towels with my wash cloths and how this utility bill is so unique.

squandering through the thicket of love's bliss.
ultimately aware of the way to a shower stall...
to cleanse the mind of... turbulance
and... the abundance of fatalities in these false fantasies...
holding on to something that never held back...
I don't think there is rehab for this type of crack...

'cause... I thought I was so close!
and... it's right here!
I can smell it simmer!... but the light's grew. dimmer?... huh?

I had the visual.
but a bit too much... visionary
and no stationary...
not enough softness... and way too complex for such...
tom foolery... and premonitions of collision.

I just wanted to recite my vows with googley eyes...
speak in a rhythmic manor...
sway the crowd...
but...
the visual became too clutched... fisted in the twat of commitment...
and union...
then doomed

You want it...
and it's right there...
but the excess? to hook the weakest link... is a bit unclear

so the visual...
was left a bit untidy...
mis-dreamed... misrepresented... missed...
in all that was tied in...
for lack of luster in the shiney...
and...
mis-communicating the right timing.