midnight dining room despot

Speaking out loud about nothing
your face: a glazed doughnut of sweat
Nose running faster then your head
nonsense fills the space between us
smoky hazed breath rumbles on
laughter just blurs into the abstract reality
A fusion of primary colours and solid black
Emotions suppresed by amber and white

Directly
the words say excatly what they don't mean
paradoxically
you seem like a child with a wide vocabulary
and little command of language

I keep the role of listener
just to make you seem wiser
A Sunday soap box preacher
at 3 am in your living room
surrounded by discontent disciples
sitting under the electric red glow
of the heater

I never really believed you
but you prefer the title of rebel anyway;
so you go on talking biblical refrences
in exchange for the personal
and I watch your cigarette burn out in your hand.