This is a warfare;
                               we keep  it in photograph,
                               we keep it in pages,
                               we keep it a secret.

                              I thought I was a keeper

and then everything is heavenly
                                  You are beautiful at daytime,
                                  and shining bright at night.
                                  "You are ethereal"
                                                       ­          the distance is an animosity
                                                       ­          though, we keep on
                                                                ­ reaching  
                                                    ­             It is not about the
                                                             proximity
                                                                ­Yearning; we were still
                                                                ­looking at the same sky.

I thought I could keep you (as I keep everything about you)

you wouldn't  be able to held the sky as it was meant to be ethereal

Where the stars align, I'll find you.

space is my addiction
proximity is key
get a little closer
and i'll never
let you leave

Spaces and proximity
light through sleepless night
years we count
on hopeless time.

Here's a thing i love
to wait---the rain
we could not restraint
that pushed by gravity.

you are my devotion
ready to defend the
universe---
no matter how many times
it had destruct.

You can see this love
only once---
Our life overlapped
at one orbit line
i'll be with you
so take my time.

Blind nights
bright stars
i'll be there,
waiting for you
to tell
all too similar things.

I do know lip-reading
But that smile
Demands for tactile

You're just as close as my nose bridge
That my eyes can always reach
But my lips can never kiss

PROLOGUE –

Silliness becomes a later suffering, if only tinkered by potion –

PART I –

A contractual moment whilst halos best remain hung on the hat rack since devils taste so much better. Bitter but belated, ritual yet related, so to in avoidance, fleeing anything that’d mimic life, “ideal;” perfect being a, “nine-five,” during which, “monkeyed with,” comes to a peak and a valley’s once more, a lack of control. A tailspin wherein one truth can become just a shy more intangible mere seconds later – We can see it, we can smell it and we can almost touch it – so allows the specter, the hand holding drink, and later, permitted, for our nakedness to play once more.

PART II –

Four more down and a few gin-fueled gestures later, we stumble upon but one edible truth, an apple and, “sin,” repeated thousand-fold – so succumbs you and a parallel I atop our empty and, “precious,” wants carnal. We masticate and learn to destroy the TV – naked, begrudged and bent over the boxes we worship. We annihilate the machines. We profane the dependencies; placation and participation wrought this artificial coercion, once a friend and now an object – a disdain, a thievery, a prison, vicarious and to be avoided by all costs.

PART III –

Human interaction and fluidic free choice soon become the new, “in,” the primal addiction amongst the bottles of tequila, *****, and plain-old beer. Our grinning, in the flesh and not in pixel, must and will rise like the places we’ve so very poisoned. Here and now, we care. We have to care, because if we don’t, it’s all for nothing. So we top the night twisted, simply breathing, where the smog isn’t seen, but it’s there. We top the night tethered, where the rain doesn’t burn, it believes. And we top the night innocent, and among stars, both in the sky and entangled the heart beating my right,

EPILOGUE –

For the time being, just being, where all seemed right, a little twisted, but wiser nonetheless.