I  was  stood  on  the  edge
of  a  precipice.
When  a  loud  clap  of  thunder
came  down  from  a  red  sky.
Then  it  turned  black
black  as  the  night.
There  was  certainly
a  lack  of  oxygen  in  the  air.
So  i  made  my  way  home
in  the  driving  rain.

Midnight.
Locked up, turned off
Tucked in,
Said goodnight to
Prayed for
Listened for an answer to ...
Silence.
The dripping tap starts
Must always have been there
Like a countdown to morning
Leaves me counting the seconds
Until the next one
When sleep turns me off.

Soft flesh flowers easily
tomato-red and over-ripe
to spill, in runnels,
a warm mirage.
Delusions
never reach
parched lips, but
taunt and I love
the torture enough
to lick up
the dust of this
wasteland.
At the gates of Eden,
I thirst,
a sinner barred
from forbidden fruit.

Into you

learning to be
a divided
submersible

once so perimetric
on the fringe
of all that grows within

we thus fall
and settle
much like Sarajevo Roses

colorfully resting
in the lasting drawn out
places we made perish

now
here
am I

into you

the ******
connective
entirely dependent

upon
the quotient
of two integers

the way we love
is a method
of mixed results