You live a different life to me.
You queue to cross a mountainous sea, under stars you struggle to believe in.

I roll out of a calm bed, hungry, and without a lifejacket, tipped over by turbulent thoughts.
The electric light illuminates my fridge (the stars are long forgotten)
and that hum keeps me from sleep.

Perhaps we can ally, you and I,
so you might make a midnight meal one day,
and worry about stagnation.
Perhaps we could gaze into the stars of each other’s soul.

Perhaps it is you, faceless shadow,
inhabiting the blind spot of my mind’s eye.
Perhaps it is you that wakes me.
Perhaps it is you in the dark that I must hold up a candle to.
Perhaps you are a part of me, and I am as yet un-whole.
Perhaps the Earthly distance gives us a mask to wear,
with TVs where the eyes should be.

Many faces, an illusion of separation, one soul
Won’t you help me to help you,
won't you help me?