Johannes Punkt’s Flaskpost

You kissed me. Bad aim.
Kissed me quite insane.
I won’t be the same.

I know how your fame
Tastes now, and your pain:
You kissed me. Bad aim.

She told me you came
Down like monsoon rain:
“I won’t be the same,”

Play your stupid game,
Crooked little vein.
You kissed me. Bad aim.

So now you’ll be tame?
So now you’ll refrain?
“I won’t be the same”?

So whose goddamn name
Shall I take in vain?
You kissed me. Bad aim.
I won’t be the same.

It’s fair to say I know a thing or two
about the art of leaving something good.
However, I would like to stay with you.

I may not be deserving, sweet, or true
but with me you’d be unmisunderstood.
It’s fair to say I know a thing or two

about the bitten hand. And I may woo —
I too have stooped to doing what I could,
however I would like, to stay with you.

It won’t redeem my soul, that benthic blue
ifreet, for never knowing what it should.
It’s fair to say. I know a thing or two

about the wish economy though, too;
I’ll spend the night that I saved up. I would,
however, I would. Like, to stay with you

is sweeter than a world-engirdled view.
So of this hollowness, pariahhood,
it’s fair to say I know a thing or two.
However, I would like to stay with you.

~

Another exercise in making the same words mean different things. With the help of Richard Kirby on the refrain.