Two Deliverances - The Hotelier

But if I want them too will they speak to me soon

in a language ripe for my listening?

When the harsh sun breaks in your stained glass eyes

the refracted light keeps glistening.

A drapery of clashing fabrics in every corner of your room.

They hung like lace

on the whitewashed face of the walls that are begging you to move and leave the

things that hold a history as if they’re present in your will.

A brand new

place a few miles away but I just wasn’t sure I was staying still.

But if you choose too it’s a honest move

and I guess that it makes for no deferences.

There’s a gleam of blue from a cold night’s moon.

Just a touch too soon, Two Deliverances.

On an empty panel floor I lie here for communion just waiting for one more but

in the quiet empty hours of my afternoon what am I supposed to do?

But if I want them too will they come to me soon?

Will they fluctuate between

midnight and past noon?

Was kind of banking on a future that’d be involving you

but I couldn’t ask this of you.

In this young night’s sky there are pinhole lights.

Find the shape of a harp and an arrowhead.

Do I hear your tunes or acknowledge wounds

that I got from rubbing elbows with a sharpened edge?

But if I choose this too does it count as my move?

I can’t drop my history just to become new.

Now swimming through the nothingness and the absolute

but I couldn’t ask this of you.