Conception

We wasted another afternoon,
Shifting angles, and eyesights
A thousand glittering bulbs-
And microscopic perception

His flickering eyebrow,
And the violent whisper-
Of a distant guitar string Roaring,
another outcry

The redundant shadow,
Of a checkmark,
And the smell of pasing time-
with the cigarette smoke

... the pain of pronunciation;
If only words weren't so difficult;

Yet, beyond the haze-
a deviant spark
And the insipid conception,
Of twenty-two million parts of you