they rule the city lights and windows
the ladies of combine
staring squinting out their cubby holes and receiver lines
grinning happily and full of plaster
a paste face frailty to their mood
and when the reigns are ripped
beefy manicured hands clench
and all mental restrain melts the plastic face

minute and hour dance gracefully tonight
ticking calmly in their never-ending ballet
amplified
Time sits adjacent
breathless worry everything's not fine
and with lack of oxygen imagination typhoons high
and with the other images it seems to tremble
collide

Was there ever a night when your voice was this silenced?
My lullaby has gone to sleep
left me with nothing but wanting
and through lack of substance
and loss of appetite
i find it strange to be feeding on whispers

is pathetic too strong a word?
well, i would know plenty about strong words?
perhaps its the knowledge that jerks me into ignorance

names and directions litter the back of my hand
with DVNs and nautical stains
bowling with the mason jars and fingering the jewelry wire
intimate poems ash up

set to fire
ran out of matches so now we use spark
(too lazy to use the common rhyme)
but it had something to do with the 'dark'

love of mine
hand-me-down constellations don't twinkle like the second hand stars
unless your eyes are filled with crying
so tell me what we need to hear
make these watering contacts a happy crime
yes, I know, you're forever trying

so....
Beauty came back home from the mountain
but "Beauty" came back home without a name
she's a filament of friction tingling between her thighs
and ever since I've known her she's a history for violence
but I long to embrace her all the same

as the sound of silence grows
the spider's kiss is lain
i can't admit I wasn't told
but never expected all the same
the malice on its' tongue
and the loathing in its' wake
tremor becomes a quake
now there's two bodies in the lake

so how could we rebel?
stamp scream then damn you all to hell?
sneak amongst the loophole gaps and barren windowsills?
an optimistic rhyme
but we're still loosing to the combine
beaten down without a breath of defiance
getting simpler all the time

time will make everything stand to wax
but I’m boring of this concept of 'time'
instead stare blinking at my green ring finger
and search for another to wear
now that the house has fallen to hush
I’ll close my eyes for a brief kiss
and wait a week to open them again
humming that newfound bliss

What IS the combine anyways?