On the verge of understanding
This clock darkness
It seeps into my bones, my soul
Erodes the spirit
Pooling the blood of consequence
I am in the center of a cyclone
She, my perfect storm
I turn the world round with my hand
Beneath each changing zone
Truth falls
Gently carving many channels in the Earth
The pain of wanting to control the Sun
The tongue of the river
Lost in winter elms
My imagination ******* on the roof
Pandering to delusions
To what is hidden beneath the surface
The cold people
My roots to life
Don't let me drown, make me beautiful
I inhale loneliness
The sweet smell of ****** Earth
Music floating on the wind like dust.
We learnt to dance in this storm
In the background
Her voice
Her Soul
Sadness and longing
Our bonding between tears and rain
In moments such as these
That cast a purple haze across the plain
We are the living things that devour
Happiness and pain

Gypsy