rewind; replay
    we're standing in a canopy of sunlight
    and laughing, constantly.
    our faces are tired of moving up
    but our eyes are used to crinkling;
    they fold, and shut, and open like buds
    with the spread and shrink of our grins, in
    and out, with our lungs.
Pauze. Zoom.
    Your nails are chipping now, but
    You're really a halfwit,
    So that doesn't deter you the least bit
    From scratch-scratch-scratching at their shook ends:
    They fall apart as we fall out.
    We're spinning, we're dizzyingly quick,
    Hurtling at the speed of 28,800 kilometres an hour; we're brisk
    At best. (Inconceivable at worst.)
    And I can feel, already, you slipping away.
    You're outside of my grasp; you're far out.
rewind; replay.
    We're ripping at the seams;
    Our faces are like bad make-up
    That doesn't move with our smiles;
    Our eyes stay impassive,
    Uninterested at best. Incensed at worst.
    The crinkles in their corners are crusted
    And new folds form on the frowns of our foreheads.
    We're smothering each other in pillow talk and blankets.
Flash-forward, play.
    We're bathed in rain, we're in a
    Canyon, in a chasm.
    We don't know salt from wound
    Or snake from bite. We
    Bring out the worst in our best selves.
    We're drowning in suitcases and bedding.
    We let it fill our lungs and we
    Don't look back.

It's too late.
You're already in.
In my skin,
Crawling around,
Throwing in my face
The very truth
Of the deterioration
Of my existence without you.

When the sweet not-so-serious,
is all that you have left
as the glue
holding you together.
It's doesn't take much pushing off
to fall completely apart.
It doesn't take much new,
to begin to be forgotten.
If not drool from a better treat,
wet tears from long retreat.

I knew,
right then....

We
c o u l d  h a v e
had
e a c h  o t h e r

We don't live life
Life lives us
Deterioration, breaks, cracks
Lives us out until we can live no more
Takes all our energy, saps all our strength, courage as it demands
Takes, ruthlessly, unforgiving
It wears us down, like sandpaper does the rough wood that will one day be the dining table, worn, dented, gouged, used,
Old, wrinkled, soon to expire
A new generation in every birth,
Born to be lived, worn, used, deteriorated
And so it goes.

i roamed into darkness
as the moonlight shed its light
in the dusty panes of the old
temple.

were the tombs of a thousand
pages unmoved,
of unseen things,
of obscure meanings
from his little grey cells.

and caressing the yellow plates,
fingers ran into deep vacuums to glean
the transcendent thoughts,
the laws of common sense
that he often uttered  
in this temple

a perpendicular impulse
hovering in the shadows,
laid still, holding on to his
immovable  designs,
unmoved.