your eyes hot like a bullet
mine engulfed by the equinox &
the silences I walked away from
we are two or more
two people who shout at each other letters
that have never touched any alphabet
who throw beautiful ideas to be caught by twilight
the hour is always unknown
as if we watch each other's destiny
what comes next only the oracle of Delphi knows
or the roots of entropy maybe
I keep some thoughts in the straitjacket

we guard bridges, ancient castles in the sky
we guard the world not to turn into a casket without music
who invented this question mark
that we owe each other happiness
I wonder if the trees have unspoken meanings
do they turn overnight into telescopes to quest
the loneliness of stars, as we do

I might turn into a shadow
blinded by darkness
we draw uncanny shapes,
everything a circle can endure
with our mouths full of pebbles

Then you come back after a long road home
It is winter time
looking gorgeous, outstanding female
wearing a chivalrous black outfit
with a wavy black hair, smells as wild flowers
A wooly pink flower scarf around your long neck
adds kindness to the cold
Now you think of having a partner but
there wouldn't be one for you are wearing a chivalrous black outfit
standing on your solitary sturdy feet
It suits you

I need to close the curtains
To my soul
No unnecessary light
No peeking inside
Just me and the night

Just me and the quiet.

~
Lipstick to void. She is a race against time. The beveled past a disruption in her lines of influence.

Travel is dangerous, and tonight it darkens the highway of blood vessels coursing through her extremities. She wants to be luminous and under the skin.

While Dorothy dreams of tornadoes in Kansas, she dreams of remote climbs in lesser Glasgow, of party drugs in Tokyo. How many lights does she see?

In her hair are sixty circuits. But she waits, religiously inclined on the hotel bed. She drove through ghosts to get here wearing nothing but Las Vegas.

So strange at this hour, in a city full of sleepwalkers for the taking, she now dreams she's a bulldozer, she now dreams she's alone in an empty field.
~

We become part of nature,
part of sunflowers & leafy stature.
By the running brook, quiet creek,
Like snowflakes on jagged peaks.

By sunny beaches, which the horizon reaches,
In wispy woods & pristine beeches.
Below the dark, cold depths of the ocean,
Which moon tides draw in motion.

Tis where my soul would go,
For solitude, no friend, no foe.

The winds come to me from the fields of sleep
Where dreams are blown out of the shallow hills
And I, in my solitude, do rejoice
As I take my comfort within their voice
Which visits me as the cool evening stills
And is rinsed by raindrops that mildly weep.

Gone is the rainbow and tincture of day
Lost in the clouds as they swim in the air
And I, in my quietness, drift afar
By merely the light of a silver'd star
Where only the souls of the sleeping dare
Seek a place that is distant - far away.

In the deepest of night, the dead of dark,
When the silent shadows hide from the light
For, shadows are secrets mellowed by age
And, ages are timeless, robbed of their rage,
And rage is bewildered, lost in the night
Yet, still sighs its echo deafingly stark.

Where is the morning to dazzle and glow ?
Where are the sunbeams to fever the heart ?
Yes! morning will come, as sure as the winds,
When the grey of the dusk slowly rescinds
And the fields of sleep will fleetly depart
And the dreams of the hills aimlessly go.

I see my kins dancing and laughing in unision
but I crave the silence - the forgotten sound of reverie.
Am I a part of their worldy communion
or is my world simply a lonesome treachery?

© fey (10/07/22)