Solemn hands, led by somber mind, raise the instrument of silence, putting it to sober lips, and softly the silence reigns, but soon abates.

Poor hands lower the instrument as gentry waits.

Rich feet tread upon buoyant ground, an island out in a storm, awaiting judgment.

Forces fail to ****** the veil from feeble foes between the toes of giants tall and giants small that fall from forty-five hundred miles above, fists rattling, jaws chattering, buried in the collision.

Perhaps nails are this way when they affix me.

However, I quickly pry myself away from the cruel, cruel day. Singing lost languages, listening languidly, plying myself candidly through clear and cloudy skies, alike.

Journeys over just lands, burning in my dust-hands are strands and strands of whiskers, plucked from lions’ maws to build an antenna.
My hands shape a needle weaving itself into the sky.

Yet, the collision of derision upon my mind will affix me to my madness, and there is no escape from a box that I have been told to call humanity.

I don't want you.

I don't want your love born sweat to conquer my onyx tower,
It crumbles still, because I shake from a withdrawal,
Caused not by intimacy, but by the mere fantasy of you.

I don't want you.

I don't want your sickly sweet hive juice, oh Queen of sweet nothings,
But a pestiferous hunger felt by I and every other before me,
Allows us to follow you just by scent, twenty eight days after hearing you.
And we shuffle still to the tune of your voice, collecting the pollen,
We find ourselves selling our bodies to you without hindrance,
And we commune in the afterlife singing your praises,
For only heaven compares, but we still linger in your presence.

I don't want you.

I don't want these tears I shed to convince you that I'm weak,
But my heart is already broken and in the healing that you administer,
It breaks again, because your touch is so gentle,
The ecstasy hits like a hammer, and I writhe in silent ******,
Only knowing that this will end, but holding onto the feeling still,
As if it is the only thing keeping me afloat in the monsoon of life.

I might want you.

I've written eight thousand sonnets and every one is about you,
But every one is different, because I appreciate how complex you are,
And I'm driven mad by the love you claim to be capable of,
The shadow of it tames me and I lose my will to fight you.

I don't want you.

Fear grips my heart in the dissonance of your desire and my worry,
And the drumming of ancient rituals berates my consternation,
A ritual I see as forbidden is nonetheless more alluring,
And I claw at my cage, wondering when I can let,
This hunger be sated, let the rabbit run free.

I don't want you.

So close to breaking the hermetically sealed barrier,
So close to losing all recognition of moral oversight,
So close to breaking down the walls that coddle,
So close, so close, so close, to ultimate sin.

I want you.

Suddenly a weight shifts and the fall is too fast to feel.

I want you.

Like light banishing darkness my pearl is let loose,
And the line that was drawn cannot be real.

I want you.

And I'm proud of that, even though God will strike me down,
But someone told me that rules are meant to be broken,
I understand now that you are the candy,
That my mother told me would cause cavities,
But if I don't eat the candy,
If I don't have the cavities,
Someone after me will never hear my story.
They will do the same.
If I don't break this rule,
Someone else will pay the price.

I am your cautionary tale.
This night of passion will make that certain.

My behaviour erratic
My speech far from smooth
These days I can't wait to cut down anyone
Who thinks life is a bed of roses on a cloud
Life is not effortless like the rainbow you so seek
These days people are afraid
The spark dying
The fire extinguishable
Do not be depressed from what I say
There is family to hold you up
And words to console
These things are meant to be
There is a correctness in some rare person
But Me? I am far from right
I am twisted
Like a crooked spine, I hurt
If someone out there feels as I do
That no consolation may come due to uncorrectable mistakes
Please let me not feel so alone
Hopeless cases that we are
Erasures all over our life's draft
I can see my follies plain as day
I can see you clearly
There is a correctness in some rare person
Judgement, I pray you be far from swift and close to gentle
I plan to live out my days trying
Best efforts are like flower buds blooming
I plan to be celebrated for my triumphs over my trials
When I have died trying

My eyes are blinded from the sun
I'm sure the heat must be at least one hundred and one
You fix your eyes to look back at me and your head covers up the blaring sun
I can stare into your eyes
You hold me in a way you hadn't done in so long
Arms wrapped around tight as I listen to your soft voice speak words with so much meaning
I believe
I believe what you are saying
Every word every syllable every punctuation and space
My heart is aching with so much love
I stay silent in fear of ruining the moment but love I promise I was listening and I promise I believe

Watch the rain wash away wishing for new sprout to take root
Smiles and traces of kisses on your face, I wish love weren't moot

Do you remember, through the fog and haze, the sun shines bright?
We spread our wings and, holding hands, the sky is where we take flight

Radio waves and satellite rays illuminate our trails across the heavens
Look to my lips as I try to plant you with my love, my voice beckons

I tell you of your beauty and, like a mirror, you tell me we're alone
Tell me more, tell me alone is a bitter fantasy, love is deeper than marrow

Stars explode and light evaporates into crystal tears tearing fabric
Life can be more than a dying sun, it can be more than just words

We're like batteries you and I, burning and fueling the engine of industry
Let's forget where we came from, let's forget who we are truly

I want to be lost, I want to be broken and shatter, can you fix me
Can you be all the queen's horses and all the queen's ******?

No. Maybe we're here for no reason more than Humpty Dumpty is fiction
So I will sit under the ruin of the willow tree and mumble stories of my silent addiction