Untouched, untarnished, alone with your thoughts.
Symmetrical whispers tickle your ear.
"Tell me, what makes you the way that you are?"
"Tell me, do you mean anything at all?"
You're in agony when the clock strikes twelve.

You cannot remember how you came here.
You see your face reflected off the wall.
And yet, is it you? Perhaps, perhaps not.
A dangerous cold aches into the walls.
You look to your left, the wallpaper peels.
You look to your right, and are licked with flame.

You're wrapped up in the billows of it all.
You taste the chocolate pouring from the mug.
You hide from the stares, peering through the glass.
The covers a fortress around your face.
The air grows stale, then warm, then sweltering.
You whip it away and embrace the ink.

A smokestack tethered upon my greased brow.
Your hands mangled, twisted, curved into claws.
Ripping and tearing at the dollhouse seams.
A spark in the eye, a leap across time.
Offer a charm, offer your heart or mine.
Or don't, and cast aside this petty rhyme.

Scream my name into the chapel's old walls.
Grow this rosebush, let it bloom forevermore.
Do not hide the whispers, do not hide the blood.
Wear it upon your sleeve, cherish its warmth.
Do not throw the sunbeam into the mud.

If you are reading this, come say hello.
ask about the weather, ask about the day.
A smile, a wave, static-filled ramblings.
A chat over coffee, a smoke for the road.
Just tip your hat, shake my hand, have a seat.
Or don't, and I'll write this, bitter and alone.

Take a look at the stars in the sky.
Count them once, then twice more.
Do you see the infinite possibilities?
Can you count the endless skyways?
The numerous wonders within its depths?
Look down as the sand meets the sea,
Can you see the shifting shapes swirl?
Can you count them? Find a start and end?
Perhaps you can, perhaps you cannot but know,
it pales towards the love I have for you.

I whisper in the whirlwind,
and your smile greets my call.
Hand in hand we swing idly,
humming our tune in the valley.
Your eyes mollasses, your breath honey,
I sway to the song of your stories.
A little oak player bumping its tune.
Do you remember that Spring day?
Do you remember the words you used to say?
I knew what it meant I knew the words too.
I knew what it was that we all had to do.
So I sit now, our trials complete.
Your head in your lap, your love at my feet.
And I know what it means to be the one true
Yes my darling, I have to say, "I love you."

There is a draft by the front room windows.
It makes your old bones hollow and weary.
It drags the dust bunnies out from the shadows.
It makes all the lost memories start to subtly ache.
What a power this little wind holds in its hands.
A sign from god perhaps, perhaps a little flurry.
All I know is I hope it comes and I hope it goes.
Rip through my arm and cut from within.
This little breeze uncovers our sins.
It dances in the moonlight and runs to the sun.
It whispers her name and starts to make fun.
It rips open the drawers and sharpens the knives.
It pulls at the sails with all of its might.
It wishes well and calls me its friend.
It dangles what I covet off a string and then
I know that it has to say the words to this song.
All along it was nothing but a ghost.
It ripped out my brain cells and tore at my chest.
It offers up peace and yet it still stabs.
Over and over and over and over again.
Oh lord does it still stab.
Until finally with an oily rag the window is sealed.
Finally the draft is gone, and finally we can heal.

A satin pillowcase pressed against his brow.
Mutters, whispers, buzzing loud in her ear.
"Please darling," he begs, "Set my mind at ease."
They dance down the hall, blood soaking the rug.
She picks up the knife, stabs into the wall.
"Why won't it ******* stick? Just ******* stick."
He tumbles backwards, both alarmed and aroused.
She looks forward, a gleam punctures her eye.
Step, step, step, she approaches his body.
Slowly, steadily, he crawls from her grip.
And the scene resets, they entwine and dance.