He plods with heavy steps
Laden down by the memories of brighter mornings
When the curtains would open to the Sun’s ****** rays
Striking his face with glowing force
Knocking him from his sleepy perch
Sending him tumbling, smiling
Through the giddy fall of day.

On his way he passed bright things.
Things that make him want to risk the fall
To surge forth and cling onto this shining view of fields
Caressed by a teaming blue ribbon of fire.
Or that tinkling, joyous, feminine giggle
Heard as the heat of an afternoon
Of early summer presses on his back
The throng of a crowd surges about him,
A million island universes all striding about their tasks
The comforting presence of all that strong, purposeful flesh
Swimming in never-ending eddies around him.

His mind may scream ‘Reach out!
Grasp at this shining moment, this fickle mote
For it is rare and precious!’
But the fall cannot be stopped.

Should he succumb he is left spinning downwards
Watching, through clouded eyes, this glowing thing shrink
As it passes noiselessly upwards
His back burning and his limbs
Nearly pulled from their sockets.
And he mourns, until he catches the next glimmer
And his eyes fill with light once more.

No, he discovered long ago that all things turn to smoke.
It is better to sit back in comfort and watch with a lazy grin
Than squirm and flap and curse your way to the bottom of the fall.

The bottom. As the glimmers fade, it comes into view.
And the youth, at monstrous speed, would strike this bed
Of black feathers, sinking deep into their fluttering embrace
And several times, as one, they fling him up,
Til he floats back down with ease
And comes to rest
And waits to wake once more.

When I sit and sink and sigh with my back against the sky,
Will you sit and sigh with me, and strap our backs to yonder tree?

Will we meet in shady groves;
Upon a hill? Perhaps in morning.
In hidden vines of deepest green… Does day break?
We spool in canopies as the world beyond awakes;
Cocoons of fragrant freshness. So here I sit and of you I wish.

Will we meet in times of woe;
Under streets beveiled? Perhaps in mourning.
The well-worn cobbles ache terribly, my dear, let us go inside
A yellow cigarette crushed against the glass; I burn for tenderness and see
It in your eye. So there you sway and beneath you I lay.

Will your face be one I know;
Past veils of spidersilk? Perhaps, my darling.
This well-worn world aches terribly, let us make our own
From shady grove to comforts home; an empire on the hill.
Lifetime passes in an eyeblink. So with you I hide
Til our tender world’s first sunrise.

I avoid ppl
I've been
Officially broken
Now I have to
Rebuild myself
At home

You cannot tell me
That what I feel is purely..
in my head

Not whenever my heart pounds
Not whenever my hands shake
not whenever my chest aches

You cannot tell me
That what I feel is..
ridiculous

Because I know that this is real
Both to my brain
*and to my body