The joy of a child,
running through a graveyard.
The laughter of children,
echoes from the gravestones.

A figurehead in porcelain,
set in a volcanic necklace.
A queen,
a goddess,
an Angel.

You disappear with the fragments of my mind,
they can not hold you forever.

Were your name not etched in stone,
I would surely forget you.

To remember you
is to render us void

If only i could learn to forget

We travel so far,
plagues in the jetstream,
bugs in the mainframe,
a glitch,
a worldwide *****,
an unscratchable itch.

We are caught,
like an insect,
beneath a glass,
on a window,
nowhere to hide,
all for the best,
here for scrutiny,
to be examined,
under the microscope,
under the hammer,
under the glare,

and for a minute there...
I lost myself.

You tell me I'm no good.

You chop me up for firewood,

and all the while my thick black smoke bellows through your veins,
searching,
looking for a place to call my own,

a cell to make my home,

it is here I will begin...

In loops of chaos you bring me your worries,
your TV radiation and unsmelled gasses.
A training day,
an industry standard,
all the things we have not yet invented.

The tumble dries,
and the deadlove flies,
all lying on your window sill,
yet still,
I am not for talking,
I am not for sale.
My answer is not to your question.
And the weeds?
The weeds they have all overgrown,
grown all over your mobile phone.

And I have worries of my own.
Those I have not yet invented.

The music plays softly,
but only in your eyes.
We have not heard what you know,
we do not know where you go.

You tell me you are glad I am here,
that you know I do good things,
then you leave.
Your delicate gait,
and your thousand yard stare speak volumes to me.
You leave, slowly,
a disappointed raincloud that had not the strength to spill one single drop.
All the while your inner monologue is burbling out,
a storm drain that has given up its fight with the deluge,

" and then you came home,
on the 5th of November,
and that was the day,
and you left the sea,
and I made your bed,
and the radio broke"

every word autonomous,
a programming error,
a glitch,
static that will not ground.

Your eyes scream of a child imprisoned within their glassy walls.
Then,
like a child at a party,
you are led away,
vice like grip
softly takes your arm.
This party food is soft,
easily digested,
and saltless.
There are no balloons,
there is no cake,
but...

there is music.
The music of your eyes finds me again,
singing of yesteryears and dried up tears,
and all the gaps found inbetween.
You force me to fill in the blanks of you,
of all you were,
of all you will ever be.
I reduce you to a name on a door,
a pattern in a bed,
a product of a battle not won.

I have come to do good things,
I have come to let you break my heart.

When my future imprisons my youth,
when I break this moments heart,
it is then,
it is there,
where the beat goes on

Your echo is my sentiment.
You speak of resonance and depth,
your speech is dampening,
and shallow.
Our memories filter the doubt,
and you can no longer push,
so I pull.
I win by default,
non compliance of request.
You quickly breathe out,
so I can breathe in.

Then,
You are here.
autistic,
a christmas day in July.