Weekend Love?

Has begun garnering
simply by how she adds flavor
to days of a seemingly slanted stance
Each time I attempt to speak
In a senseless funk all vowels descend
As she passes a series of
Reserved yet, callous glances
Though hidden remain their meanings
for this reason alone
in silence passionately I suffer

Clockwork

Usually, the option of social interaction

Is rarely honored amongst my list of activities

For years such strange behavior has been

Quite the cause to raise concern

Amidst the bowels of concentration, I rest

Observing the soft exchange

Of vowel upon meaningless vowel

No relations or interests composed

To identify and sympathize

with a colorful sea of strangers

May add colour to all that might

Be missing in my life

Yet, in a constant of fear I live

Running…

Just running…

Whilst striving to fathom

The clockwork of relationships

Digest

To much surprise, with great truculence I was met

Of all things I had expected our conversation

To be predictably simple

Oddly enough some personal relations

Had surfaced within the discussion

Relations of which were difficult to digest

Finances, virginity, vehicular independence and so forth

Why should such issues be the subject of immediate scrutiny?

And why should I favor opinions I detest?

Then I said to myself:

“This is the time for reinvention.”

“This is the age to make a difference.”

“This the year to familiarize what is rare.”

And on I carried…