I want to get lost
where the world is yours
where the skies reflect your innermost thoughts
and the clouds are your ideas
and the rain they wring is your desires
which flood the sahara of your hopes
to watch them trickle through the cracks,
your doubts,and come to feed,
to nurture your needs
till trunks of talent grow,
and twist, and expand
and, like the traits of your hands
reach up to the sky to touch your ideas
take their nectar, patiently blossom
while uncertainty floats about as flotsam
to see the universe as your playground
the stars as you picture them
unearthed and unfeatured, and then
explode into the atmosphere
with heavy annotation
extraordinary reworking of ordinary constellations
the noxious gas of your speech
choked full of that which I cant understand
but for which I yearn to know, as a human, as a man
if I could choose where to get lost
a place to throw myself in
the point where I stand my ground
and forget all sense of skin
where I am only eyes
like plunging, wide-stared
underwater, secluded
and breath ill-prepared
it would be in your eyes-
then your mind, then your stare
then your soul, then your damages
everything there