whatwegotitswhatwegotitswahtwegotwegotwegotwegotwegotweusourselves

Wherever we turn,
and how badly we burn,
inexplicable and unfathomably,
we still yearn...
for a night or two, or three,
possibly.
those me and you's...
and as the night fades away
and gives in to day,
we lay, silent, not still,
no, not still at all.
me, you,
against the wall;
as close as can ever be,

hold me, tightly...

push and shove,

I have you still, love...

I still have you.

Two sticks gone and twenty more to go,
maybe I'll stay, maybe you won't, who's to know?
and that's what makes it all worthwhile,
there's paths to tread, two hundred thousand million billion yards...
a mile, and a zillion more...
gets you thinking, it's prettily worth fighting for.
And that's a hell lotta shoes.

Let's have us a smoke, or not,
and welcome the unknown,
the unfolding, the end of the plot.