you were set as stars in a night,
relentless, tangled, act of own
will. i was a juxtaposition
of fear & current,
sight to see.
it was ridges extending out eternal
we were only possible & not more
but knowledge imparts little
& what i know now does not
save my lost soul then. it
has all fallen oh what am i
lost dawn on the incoming front &
saw its orange-bitter glow fall under
the cloudbank. & wondered what next
i'd lose, besides sleep, chance, and
sanctity of mind. i had my ideas,
but no will or means to rectify.
(through foxton). someone walks into an
already-lit dairy. coughs in the centre,
driver ain't let go of the wheel;
last two toes to right gone real
sleep, maybe to make up for me.
gleams in the gutter, sky makes
new stars at day. i do not suspect
anything but my own victory &
demise. but in which order?
you were a long-run hedgerow enclosing
the horizon, day i first saw your
face. some times you wish moments had
a repeat or rewind facility, but that
case did. so i learnt the first few
words of your language & liked the
way it rolled off tongue. truth was, i got
pretty **** down within the other
corridors of my days. truth is, i was dust flung
off the land in a storm. i was
unsalvageable scrap. but i started
learning all scrap is useful, once you
figure it out. the dust was settling, the
rust was sloughing. & i met you.
and i found out who i'd like to
make of myself, finally. make it right.
maybe stay happy, for not only
myself, but to align with
the set of prime ideals i found in your
love of life. & i've a lot left to learn,
but, of course, i wanna learn it all.
found somethin' that felt right for the
first in a back-catalogue of long times. felt
like destiny, though it's not something i ever
believed in. and, even in this chaotic sea
of random windblown chance, i did find
something and felt as though you might
actually feel the same.
and it terrifies me that it may
be taken away before either of us get
a break. taken by tides in which either
of us has next-to-no say, and i'm afraid if
sometimes dreams are just that and life is
real and furthermore is destined (not that i
believe, but not every god-fearin' man is a
theist) to be painful.
'cause i don't want anyone to hurt, though
i know you're brave enough to stand it. is
it so selfish to crave a world in which
pain is only part & parcel of a bygone era?
where suffering is just a dictionary entry?
where i could hold your hand
just a short while?
sleepless thoughts from the eternal open stretches of a night bus