Rain washing through my open heart.
Glistening in the breaks and lacerations.
Bloodless drips abolish the memory of pain.
Faculty of mind syphoned, immediate sublimation.
I roam eternity, interstellar dust once more

See all of her beauty painted in those words.
Feel the warm silk of her voice flowing softly.
Reaching out closes the immeasurable distance.
She folds time as if it were a sheet of paper,
She folds paper knowing it is a piece of time.
I have bathed in her kindness.
I would have drowned in her love.

I fell,
in love with your broken.
I fixed you
then
set
you
free.

Fractured,
in words left unspoken.
I'm broken
as
broken
can
be.

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.

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.

I am depth in shallow worlds,
not for material wealth,
the answer to every question,

but,
I
hold
no
contest
to
the
beauty
you
possess.

I am naked of you,
once again, unclothed by love.
Unfurnished,
I know everything of nothing.
In sympathy of tears,
this air gives up its fluid,
hydrogen separates from oxygen.

Locked in these cycles
we hold our own truth.

Pulsating in rhythms
we pass through aeons.

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

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

Broken in circles,
this
spiral
down.

A remnant,
a relic,
valid.

A black mass
in vacuums.

Incision.

Specimens
cultured.

Future calling,
sleep.
Docile,
now humble.

Humility.

The expectancy of life.

This pregnancy of hope

There is a box,
out there,
for me,
from unknown land,
and unknown tree.
'Til quietus reached,
we
will
not
fasten.
But I know,
you
will
hold
me,
with all the love of a long lost friend.

TV eyes open,
Radio heart beating,
Mouth search engine,
Random access mind,
Hardware bones,
Software genitals
Organic interface,
Copy files,
Run programme...

A primal inertia has held us together.
I dream of a time where we collided,
when we danced together in a molten tango,
a violent waltz of heat and fury.
As our heavenly bodies fell into each other,
we shone a light into the darkest of worlds.

You governed my forces,
shaped all I was ever to be.
A gift of enduring stability,
a womb, a cradle,
a playground.

but now,
a heavy force,
a heavenly force,

a gravity,
that which pulls us ever further apart.
I have all the power of this world but still...
still I can not hold you.
With every passing moment you grow more distant,
Your face, as I will always remember it, is frozen in time.

But still you shine on,
You give light to the dark of my night,
You give hope to the life that I hold.

You are my companion in time.

You are my distant love.

I am the earth,

and you,

you are the moon

Finally exposed,
beneath a wing.
She is harbinger and harvester,
gnawing, undermining a foundation.
Her self belief,
deathly evident.

An induced epiphany,
with drip-fed stealth coercion.
Now self aware,
to purchase life.
In permanent daylight
he regains solar nourishment.
No longer frantic.

Oh for the hand that has raised,
that has haunted.
The forcing of flies
through this carrion heart.

Everyone is lost,
not just those you have found.
You found them in photographs,
buried underground.
Confessing all to time,
conceding time to all.
This murderous reproach,
of "every time we fall".

Tearing every tormented second apart,
eating at the meat from your tick-tock heart.
The Thrones in your heart start taking stock,
stop all the wounded time lapse clocks,
then,
open
the
locks.

Let me in
let me in,
little piggy,
let me in,

where you end
and where I begin...

Trapped and static,
particles infiltrate my breath.
I am compressed,
I am held,
this cell,
this hell.

Hate,
rejection,
approval,
my captors.

I immerse myself in white noise,
I reside in my sorrow,
in my despair,
in chains, in tears,
this cellular embrace.

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 melancholic moon hangs, guilty in the mourning mist.
The murderous sun rises to execute the closing vapour.
Innocent winds unknowingly disperse the evidence far and wide.
And I awaken from my snow-filled dream to shower under forgiving rain.
As ignorant to nature's glorious torment as volcanoes are to life.

There are moments in life which scar our memories.
I have always been fascinated with capturing those moments,
it is our best hope of achieving immortality.

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...

Separated by space and time,
but you are forever mine.
Sepia sun faded memories shine.

These desperate remnants haunt,
and they taunt...

I hunt in these tattered impulses
Oh the frequency, eternal rhythm
All that I am is all that you are
Immortality in neurons

In solitude I hear voices,
whispering,
demonic.

A mumbling,
that which my innocence can not decipher,
a frequency,
a pattern,
a code.

I am invited,
needed,wanted...
desired.

Sleep takes me,
I hear them clearly now.

They speak of terrible deeds,
and in my struggle to wake,
they force me to sleep.

Sadness echoes once more in my chambers,
pain, residing in me like a filthy squatter,
and my heart is squalid,
unfurnished.

Surrounded in you,
you are the fastness of my echo.

Our freedoms imprison us.
Even now we want more than we need,
tho' we do not yet know what we want.
We do without knowing,
we know without doing.
We do without nothing.

Scaremonger the tip of our iceberg hearts.
This is this race of a thousand false starts,
and we, the runners, the player of parts.
We with the stones and the broken glasses,
You with your runaway greenhouse gases.
Her heart, still molten,
we've frozen these assets.

This horse is gone,
yet we search for the locks.
We look to the skies,
we watch all the clocks.
The second hand,
our second thoughts.
This futile search,
these last resorts.

This weight of extinction is heavy,
shackling life's gift of buoyancy,
of optimism.
It pulls us under the rising tide of humanity.

We belong to the future,
It does not belong to us.

I echo your curves,
fluids push into every corner.
You hold,
your stance immaculate.

I am cocooned in your harmony,
your stability.
You flatter me.

Filled with the highest of energy,
we revel in our chambers of combustion.

We are not fossils yet.