The Art of Eve

I'm an avid, upright animal,
 but I'm barren without her love.
It's fine to be the art of Eve when one has time
 to balance upon her thighs.
She molds me right and holds me while parables,
 in song,
      ignite my nights.
In lack of Eve, I don't believe I'm parallel to all that I hold dear.

         On our way,
         waking up,
         we find ourselves right where we left off.

Born unbound in the lost and found,
  I'm paranoid,
   like I've nothing left but fear.
Uneven, I leave demons in upheaval, shaking feelings of battle-shock.
I am leather to their teeth.
Our dream-scape thrills with its honey-lemon milk.
              My return to what we've built.
                           I keep Eve deep in my blood.
Dreams did come, of a world undone.
 It's criminal.
                   We've been sleeping through all these eons.

                      On our way,
                      waking up,
                      we find our garden's flourished.

                       Eve, don't sleep. It's just you and me
          alone.

Reviews

[DavidRyanM]

This piece is pretty fantastic, my friend. Dig the line about "balancing on her thighs" and the line "In lack of Eve, I don't believe I'm parallel to all that I hold dear." That's just brilliance. I dig the last line too. It was an almost haunting, yet hopeful, feel to it.