Bolts and matches.
No match for bolts and matches.
A star under the burnings of the floor.
Black bold face tea.
Trim the hands.
A boat for small and easy jobs.

Somehere I run and somewhere I move.

Never a knew question.
Or be them known.

On colorful rocks.
Rocks colored with your face.
Rocks before color and these are again.
Rocks believe the promises.

Rocks do not move for Heaven.
Crumbling, a tight holding.



Maybe something stranger and a something much more than this.

This has been your still birth.

You need not be more.

Retry and compute and restore and believe.

Love just won't know.
I've tried the two year old plan.

It is age now.
Time moving and the stillness of completion.

By your cycle and by your side.

My
mouth
bleeds.

My mouth crumbles from heat.
& when I sleep at night, my window opens.

Winter creeps in & steals the warmth of your memory.

Smothering only hope & rewriting my repose,

My hollow form, now torn, twisted.

I am man again.

All the same.

I'm no thread scarring your dreams.

Sensibly I seek strength.

& hover towards that lonesome window.

& bolt it's cold steel latch.

& stumble.

Through the frosted pane.

Into deep liquid night, my eyes close.