Slithering snakes obscure view,
Aching with need, want, desire.
Her fingers trace, knead, embed themselves in mine.

It's the disquiet that follows.
Aching burning crying deep within.


It is just something simpler than what you usually find,
The bliss you find,
When you're all out of time.

To feel red, to bleed red, to be red.

It's not enough.

The blood must flow unconsciously,
The need bleeds from every inch of self.

A hunger, that is not misunderstood.

A quiet day followed by empty nights without her.

It's finding she's Yoko to your Lennon.

Ah, the silence of conniptions.

What would they say, what would they do?

There is no cold white light for me.
Only the stark white after all the grey.

You walk into lives, clenched fists
You stray into lives, clenched fists

She tells him her story
He tells her his tale

We wander into souls, open-shut eyes.
We float into souls, closed-circuit minds.

A glass offered to ghosts
A dreamy interlude

They left us, with bleeding hands.
Left you, with broken bones that will never heal.

Her perfect circle.
His vicious cycle.

Sun, where we began and danced in her light until we grew tired of being and went apart from each other, promising to write snail mail and songs.
Mercury, where we collided and saw each other for the last time, hurtling towards a great unknown.
Venus, where we never knew strife and bargain, to begin with a step back and two steps forward, enchanted by all she had to offer.
Earth, was where we found each other, after walking quite a distance away from each other, only to meet again along the infinite line.
Moon, where the concept of death became alien and we danced to the ebbing of waves on the cold shores lit ablaze by the bonfires in our hearts.
Mars, where the idea of war entered our souls and waged war we did, turning whole empires into ash with our weaknesses and humanity.
Jupiter, where it was decreed our penance would be great, and humility would be in our bones before long.
Saturn, when we knew our time tending to orchards and vineyards for our sins would be over, and we danced until the morning light.
Uranus, whole and plain for us to see, the empty void of unchange making our souls sick, for everyday was exactly the same.
Neptune, where we finally settled on the same shores we met each other at first, and held each other closer than we ever did, as time itself stopped.

The grim look he gave me was more than enough,

The time ticking down never felt right.

Dawn came, only that it wasn't soon enough.


His soft purring would never be heard again.

Love doesn't work like how it does in the movies.


Imagine all the red wine spilt.


And all the sleeping pills taken.


Sepia turns to gray-scale.

Love, a most bitter pill.

Riddle me this.

I am every bad day you had.

I am every tear you never shed.

I am the bullet in the gun you never fired.

I am the light you sought, only to realise the brilliance within isn't too much brighter than the shadows without.

I am every bad thought you ever had.

I am the shaking of the wrist, the trembling of the fist.

I am the silence in the trees.


What am I?

wistful desire to return in thought or in fact to a former time in one's life, to one's home or homeland, or to one's family and friends; a sentimental yearning for the happiness of a former place or time:



Tracing the runes down your face
Memory serves me well, I did this before.

Inside yesterday again, tasting sepia.


Funny, it tastes like maple syrup.
Accompanied by Dutch syrup stripping
Randy layers of my mind away

Cryogenic tones take over
Ravaged by time itself
Yesterday will always be rosy

But today has tender roughness
Today has the King in Black attending to his Lady In Red
Tomorrow will have him repeat the same cycle again
Because yesterday will always be rosy


It's yesterday, and a funeral.
It's yesterday, and a broken promise.
It's yesterday, and a contract signed.

It's just yesterday.

So tell me.

If the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again,
And arriving at the same result.


What about doing the same thing over and over again, and finally arriving at a different result?

grinning
smacks lips


Why, I'll tell you.

It's genius.

Clean up after yourself,
Your mess invites more that are akin.

Why did I ever bother?

Your patterns break out once again

Nothing you have ever let go

Came back to you


Like the oceans you crossed

But yet the only ocean that you never seem to swim in

Time, time itself.

Don't your own primal instincts tell you to give up the ghost?

Grabbing it all by the hair,

Suspending your belief that it could even happen in the first place.

Ah, a beautiful explanation is due, isn't it?

I'm afraid there's none.

It's your fault.

The intimacy of the memory leaves me shaking with its lack of mercy.

The intricacies of her theory leaves me hungering for delicacies she might have offered.

The original sin was that pride left me a long time before I realised I hungered for only one concept : constant change.

A heavy heart, but a constant weeping, until the day either of us turns back.

Will you?

Something so much more simpler than anything else - void of thought, void of want - just the two of us