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They were here.
I can see them.
I can hear how they clapped and shouted.

I can smell their vintage scent
I can feel their dead presence.
I can taste their attention in the
Midnight air.

Performing for no one,
performing for them.
Speaking at my loudest
So the dead can hear.

The Dead Audience, more alive
Than the one that breathed.
Energy flowing through the veins
Of the ones who were deceased.

They were here.
I can see them.
How they clapped.
And shouted.
A face without features.

A letter without words.

A hand without fingers.

Silence without noise.

Skin without touch.

The forest without trees.

Night without the moon.

A soldier without courage.

Eyes without sight.

The spot without X.

A calling without a name.

Love without hate.

A frame without a picture.

A bird without wings.

A swan without grace.
Emptiness.
Beautiful destroyer.
Runaway Doves; stained clouding.
A beautiful woman, bittered by reality.
Fleeing this earth, dressed in black.
Reaching for the sky, for a clearer conscious.
Her relic soul, to be rested on the holy billows.
Going up in smoke, an Angel of Azure.
This one is to the Burning Tyres at The Factory.
The white door ahead of me.
How it stands
blankly, not letting me in,
on the secrets it holds.
A fear of the unknown, of what lies behind it.
A letter to The Warden; Hell's Gatekeeper:
I am Nearing Dementia.
Literally staring at a white door :)
It was only brief,
The moment of our connection.
But in that breath,
I felt what I had never known.

He looked at me,
Broken and senseless,
And taught me a truth
That no man should ever learn.

Separated by just a window,
We lived two worlds apart.
But in that distance,
We met in the middle.

I'd known him forever,
In only a second.
I'd felt his heartache,
Through a timeless touch.

The winds of life
Had weathered his eyes
And his hardened nails
Carried dirt and memories.

I could not make out
The story in his soul,
For my eyes were drowning,
pulled underwater.

But that was not necessary
His pain was made clear.
Magnificent storyteller,
How he shared without fear.
Saw a homeless man the other day. He was broken; we were broken.
Are the trees free?

I see how they dance, lone in the forest, forced to sway by Nature's Magician;
A warrior tyrant known as Wind.

Do they move to the tidal breeze's rhythm, hypnotized and generalized?

Or do they move to their own indie music, spiritual and free?

The waterless storm tumbles violently inland, grumbling and growling and stepping on trees and sand.

The leaves silently rattle and slowly begin to speak, stories of gloom and whispers of deceit.

The roots pull and grip and handle the storm, much pain and withstanding until each one is broken and torn.

The bark, clinging to twigs like a heavy-set leash, a harmless dog shackled down like a vicious beast.

Through thunder and lightning strikes or the bright moonlight, the tall trees stand short, everyone of every sort.

Woken up and forced into sleeping by moody, indecisive seasons. Taken aback by the events of intangible attack. The trees are controlled by a lifeless form and forced to sit lifelessly in the land of the norm.
Did I tell you about your eyes?

It's your beautiful story that's true.

They twinkle with hope in the darkest days, they blossom like daisies in Mid Summer's Way.

Your eyes whisper the truth about love into my ear.

They sing the song of heart break and pain.

They dance and laugh when light falls into your arms.

Your eyes cry and mourn for your lonely tearless soul.

They bring comfort and peace and a sense of jubilee.

Your eyes are like angels that watch over me.

They are the beauty that hides in the corals of the sea.

Your eyes, they told me how joy is meant to be, they planted enchantment into my ever-weeping being.

Your eyes are as beautiful as the first stream of newly risen sunshine, in, through the imperfections of your room's defensive curtains.

Your eyes are my reggae, my Marley, my peace.

Your eyes are my friends when times are deep.

Your eyes are perfect. Well, of course they are, they're a part of you.

Did I tell you about your eyes?

its your beautiful story of two.
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