the melodramatic beating
of one in the next room breathing
in-out-in-out-
it makes the house
have a pulse,
that kieeps you up for hours
until your body shuts down,
your eyes shut,
and the beating, breathing,
is simply your heart
giving you a rhythm
to your dreams.
when the moons amber liquidness
melts into your house
through the windows and forgotten unlocked doors,
filling it and making itself into pictures
and hanging around, of old memories,
in broken flames and broken clocks.
clocks clocks, tick tok tick tok...
didnt you ever think clocks want a different beat.
havent you heard, rabbits and turttles,
can fall in love too?
dont you ever consider
the possibility, that it is not
going to work out?
that things in this world,
dont go smoothly.
that is still no reason
to give up.
find a different beat,
find a new lover,
just dont leave,
just dont give up.