Rants (For a Likely Story)

Reaching back to heaven, I caught a liar's moon.
(Who said there are never enough words?)
I dug deep, hung tight, and I played
until midlife, midwife, middle
of nowhere,
something died.
I changed my mind,
changed myself,
changed myself again.
I didn't stay.
I didn't listen.
I didn't know
dreams end in radio station madness
where libidinal bodies beat the drums.
With every vibration, she's calling me.
Failures and footsteps at my back,
I cannot stop.
I cannot stop,
nor can she.
So, we run.
We run.
Whorehouse-smart, I'm not
buddy-buddy,
just very,
very tired.