After the last red signal went off
I was the only one left We never did find out what happened but LED light rained down like sunshine and I danced through the falling strands. I rest between sleepers content to exist I count the suitcases, each one a flightless bird in transit the feathers and colours of home I am the Railway Dog my life is tracks of others' dreams patchy and burnt is my coat eyes now moist, and always dim but breathing inside me is one moment's treasure: the night I chose love over fear he moves in, she chatters
a woman's teeth can bring on desire she smiles, talks slower does not display her need he pecks, plucks and dips his eyes in hers she pierces her veil this bird helps himself to nourishment the flesh and pulp of being apparently only passive she stirs deeper within it's over now, no consequences the peak of perfect balance shines more in unlikely places but one kiss can fuel a train across this city for the rest of the night... strand by strand
I weave, I pray to the bus of time flashing by and you may miss it or it may hit you yet tonight was divine a moment later would have lost you 'cause the big city am I I count my small steps I pray to the Most High that my locks are enough, tough and long for Him to catch me when I fall the weft of my path
no longer lies here as though lifted by a sparrow a thread has been flown to a place higher, more complete divine cartography nourished now by strings of words a tapestry is formed I may not see yet it prepares for me the relief of cool grass when I stop to rest and breathe fragrance of heather his destination will remain
elusive until the sword is raised again one last and final time before the oath to never look back. Fulfilment may be bread and a herd of goats. the uniqueness of the kiss
of oil on canvas is perfect not through shades or choice of place but due to the thick coarsness of this one hand caress of imperfection secretion in lust uniqueness of real detail skimming smoothness life is hoping that a knot a spasm in the waves may break my speed or my neck... to say the meaning of the sea it's best to stand among the cables the fossils of the motherboard who misses it the most now black with tar, our feet may choose their direction gold leaf or plain
the flickering minutes all hang together in composite likeness and these gutted buildings wink as we pass and rightly or wrongly bear witness to change looking for space recognition of home it now seems they're two or maybe lots more thousands perhaps all married together yet all in the shape of this shattered pane I may offer fragments a piece at a time shards of an icon a portrait, my song worth something... only through green eyes that see the beauty of morning
tumble spin dry of soiled memory fresh passion the countersign of conspirators bent on revolution and proving that the world is once again a disk and those who live here get but one chance existence has a cost and each time I check I know white will hit me before I can say my love From this vantage point
a room of many mirrors a lighthouse for the soul I stretch and crane to see which I should follow now the escape path is brushed clean by wind over snow. My palette's yellow for pain blue for the hurt black for forgetting and red for the lost ones. We open windows select our hope that clicking on Save might make it alright. I live in windows without a house I pray through windows and manage a smile, when answers come through an unexpected kiss on my sore neck locked on auto-blast
I steer this rudder of existence as the wish to wipe out my foes gets a hold on me like never before. A finite number of mornings is all that remains until the friction causes my wings to catch fire again. I parade such weakness my name is my cloak my prayer: may the fiberoptics not slacken just yet... |
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