We talked of travels;
Escaping towards the constellations.
Our plans to rise above the despair,
We both created.
Words touched by Shakespeare
Rested on our lonely souls.
Promises poured casually;
Drinks passing our lips.
Tongues tasting the bitter
And the sweet.

Quiet hour,
laying nestled
beneath imaginations.
Her head resting
upon his memories,
the faint scent of
affection still lingers.
Recalling each frame
that formed their moments,
feeling the sensations
that guided their journey;
touching the pages of adoration
that once told, their story.

Before the day began,
I waited in the shelter
Away from the wandering souls.
My eyes transfixed upon the rays of dust
Penetrating the walls; in the midst of the shadows.
Those misty pieces of memories, scattered upon
The ground, an ode to a fading season;
My heart rejoiced.

The days carry the essence of grand fatigue;
I once knew a good judge of character,
whom the recipients of righteousness
called a friend.  

He collapsed within the fog,
leaving a rare delicacy for me to consume.  
I savored the taste of blatant bitterness,
refusing to regurgitate the morsels
I quickly digested.  

Now I've got this nagging cough
and wheezing in my chest.
The plight of mad science
to taint my good blood cells
with the disease of contaminated cytoplasm.

I am becoming numb
to its brutal effects
and I am frightened.

I love this moment,
sitting deeply obscure
While the obtuse populace
plan their fate.

I get to think of her.

Thinking about her toes,
hidden within those little socks.

Dreaming about a rendezvous
to someplace warm; stripping down to our
bare essentials.  

Naked along the trinity, pure forms
pressed against each other; feeling
the skin of consciousness shedding
to reveal our smiles.

Haunted memories against
this restlessness; my eyes
searching for signs of
certainty.

Frightened by
the careless natures;
feeling my hope
constricted by the angst
of dilemmas.

Thoughts tilting away
from the season; my pulse
quickening within
the lapse of time.

Darkness mocks my search
for the light; enchanted
dreams lost within
this ambiguity.

Sometimes I sit and stare; delving deeply towards the point of destined fixation.  I stop at the edge, waiting for the moment to hollow out; imagining the embrace of silence.  

Sometimes I feel the pull of refuge, leading me by the hand to the subterranean level.  A finger, placed upon my lips, to prevent the waves of random thoughts from contaminating the cure; breathing…the pressures slowly release beneath the fathoms.