And all of my soul as I climb your spire
I'll be your ride and you'll be my seat.
My feet are numb
And I’ve forgotten my name.
Tonight I can see the stars
As I dance through the rain.
Crashed upon your island of isolation,
Delivered 2nd class by your ocean of emotion,
And directed by an eclipsed moon’s mind.
What treasures shall you find?
From the foam of a reddened sea
You’ll discover a bag of lies,
My worst is faced with disassociation, questioning my own sanity, looking in the mirror whilst listening to the softness. Though, disassociation breaks those boundaries, It’s weird. I don’t want or feel comfortable with defining it and at my best, I don’t care to. At my best I embrace the stares as simple acts, the finger pointing as fascination but at the same time, I’m living in my innocent normality which shifts internally and in my choice - privately, your eyes should do the same.
I ****** at your peak and I
taste with your tongue but
to you, I am just listening and
to me, I am reliving in
truth and time, In
loath, even lie. Mutuality meets
pity and we stare at each other through
a singular crack in a mirror. It’s a small slither of darkness. Enough
to display my most glorious gift, my
handsome curse. I loan you life and you
debt me death, innocently.