You’re coated solid gold, the messiah,
and I’m inhaling the fumes from below,
you capture me in corners and open space
capture me, get bored and walk away
quizzical, to see if I know what you know,
the difference between trees, I don’t,
what you’re trying to get me to say, I don’t know,
your interest in me is just passing through
your interest in me is if you’re in the mood
It’s only fair to give credit where credit is due
you had me trying until it was what I couldn’t do
you had me dejected over everybody else
when they managed to win you,
the desired result, I bet I checked the right box
I have your particles in my heart,
gold flakes from resting in your mistakes
no more skirting by and holding my breath
yet, I find you on me all the time
sitting in the corner of my eye.
The art of spilling over 