Soon the Moon may take
me.
Slip the rope from the harbour of my body
and cast me
out to sea.
My hand stroking the silky water
whilst I watch the silent scream,
the dream, of myself floating away,
whilst the anchor of my mind
drops
Unattached
and Unencumbered.
Turning instead to foam on the
waves.

One day.

Soon the Moon may take
me.
And make me once more it's own.
Letting loose the beast within and allowing
it one more roam.
Freedom at last.
All that is past dropping from it as
a bit from the steed which will
no more
sit a rider.
Useless
I will hide her.
Useful only to me.

If you could but see.

For,
Soon the Moon may take
me.
Cutting loose the rope which binds
my arms to flesh,
and heart to mind.
Letting free the wings to fly into
the sky of tear strewn clouds.
Once more allowed the bitterly taken
happiness.

What could mean less?

The moon may take me
Break me
But I will never allow me to
Forsake thee.

My boat would find your port
My beast your stable
My wings your pedestal.
I am your own
You are my Home,
and so I shall never allow myself to roam
without you.

Never shall I abandon you alone.

My mistakes do not vindicate your mistakes.
My wrong does not make your right.
My folly does not justify your folly.

Ad hominem all the way down.

It is not three millimeters.
Or maybe it is
And its symbolic.
A short distance compared to
The mile that is my life.

No. Its the
Three Month Mark.
The thing I'm scared of.
Every time I've tried something,
And I've been happy,
It ends at three.
Three something.
Hours,
Days,
Weeks,
or Months.

We've passed a few of those,
But "months" is coming.
Fast.
I hope it's wrong.