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an Island, a goddess smile in its embrace, its sway my life.
Eyes that were my eyes, turned kindly downwards, beaming with
a love that was All,
a given force, like
Sunlight. Your laws: whole constellations drawn on a baby-blue dome
Never to be apart forever. (more)
After the storm ripped all the trees
from the riverbank
There was left only a murmur

Leaving the river blank,
A face unperturbed, like (more)
Why don't you trust?
If there would be any reason to not
do this,
that reason would be
Red, the grey clay has black grit mixed in.
A fall would be unfortunate indeed.
For they grab,
no flesh, no muscle left on those hands.
No one knows where we're headed
the only movement is (more)
Oh not you again.
I sometimes Fear
to know that
And at other times I Doubt
whether you are really (more)
There's a circle on that lonely square.
The bench where you sit.
It is your place.
That giant clock,
it's hands go round, a needle,
slowly turning red, (more)
Sometimes things are easy.
You make it outside and the world welcomes you
You, the one we can't help but love.
Ours to bestow flowers upon.
Garlands of joy we place on your hair, (more)
Maybe silence is good.
No swords draws.
Our shoulders are sagging, backs ache. That was some march we did there. Panting up a steep hill, trying to reach that higher ground. Loud voices, hysteria on my part, you insensitive-
I miss you.
At least you try.
With your g(more)
I hope that this upkeep is worth it.
You bothersome,
I'm not sure whether I deserve you.
Obnoxiously blind, (more)
While the grey dotted line travels over the white backdrop,
I feel that there's red in there.
Like a fuzzy busy tone, beeping.
I, as the night, or the dwindling day, creep on.
I think one eye is blinded. (more)
And onward rush of sickish green waves, crashing on a bone-yellow shore. The spray is cyanide,
it is in the taste of the air.    
Everything that used to be, is wrong.
An aching lives here now. No more see-through days, this is what is left.  
And it is solid. (more)
Constrain your fingers, they should as they are told, behave likely.
Not like that, like This: Write it slowly.
I would cut them off, should they nod, but as They constrict me also, I say it with my eyes: you are poison.  
You are less.

This wall won't hold me. Even though it is now, its sticky secrets revealed. Heavy is my heart that you want to hold out to me. This is pointless.
Don't you see?
We won't be here forever.
I shall fly. (more)
An orange seam, expanding without sound, the dry rock. Invisible lines, shaking the ancient material. Opening with majestic candor and eye into the world.
We should be gazing here for ever, where we met.
On this edge.
The coming sound will deafen me, bleed you out. (more)
What is it with this surface?
I remember it made out of blue clay, a wide sea that was solid enough to supported heavy school-chairs.
My fathers remembers the smell of it being cleaned. The cleaning lady in the hallway, transforming his office into a school again.