small chill sets through past& present
tides' turns; although, somehow, i've been
sweating more, lately. nerves, or insides
slowly lit& spread. but, if you truly
were wildfire (and, sometimes, you
are), i'd stay the kindling that i am,
anyway.
                   the light and
length of days
                              shuffle,
as normal steps, in this adjoining dance,
and i try not let it show but,
im still feeling the same.
still aching and burning.
little shivering hope, sat by a
little wavering candle, whispering:
you might change your
mind, but
people seem to stick to
their songs, and
i'm not quite sure if
you'll change your tune in time, but

i still adore you, so
i'll just keep waiting,
for now.

but i can walk around, having
written all the angles between
streets in the ravines in
my skin. and i can still
stare at the sky, from hilltops,
and know maybe the world doesn't
have to carry so much meaning or
get dizzy whilst spinning or even
notice that,
in its silhouetted waltz,
the moon, brilliant& alight, is quietly
headed out to sea.

a quiet
the scent of distant fires
slow, swimming pulse

i was awake, in the dark,
floating over leaves, as the rain
began. or, at least i wished i
were. instead, i was fumbling under
orange light, dark
patches slowly adorning the
asphalt passing below. i was
free, but only within the
confines of a cage i'd crafted
for myself, as long ago as
organic advent, and as soon as
perpetual. stuck in a reverie,
further down the coastline, i
discovered i could no longer
feel. awake and distanced, i felt
the claws within
                             my ribcage
instead simply pass through,
and couldn't decide if
i'd been cheated, or stumbled
onto the trail of fretless
existence. thus arose my worry,
and, all fears confirmed, is set
out to find something that dug
in. hurt or elate or panic or
wonder hid, behind the curtains
of cold swathing me, though.

       the sky is just a sky.

                                     nothing
builds up, just spreads at my
feet. grass is just a series of
fibre and proteins. a long wait is
just a clock's hands.

down some road, the days
while away in the same or
different places. i am
predominantly the same,
indifferent.

(i couldn't say more than enough, or
much at all. i am uncertain but
only ever-so-slightly and, overarching
paradigm, i'm happier than ever, even
if i'm still sad.) we play
party to endless routines. bite our
own tails with startling frequency.
shudder or spark. most often both,
but most often meaning little, for
meaning is intrinsic, only where you
implant it. in patient hunt for
our exterior products, we numbered
blades, outside; hovering above and
without fields. writing the same
light motifs as always. nothing looks
like stars except stars, or sand, or
freckles in your eyes. everything
shines a little dimmer. something
about the way our hands brush
through stems. directed motions.
observable quantities. sentences
underpinning lifetimes. how does
one figure their actions or inaction
as anything but universal? how
does one decompose their patterns,
already found irreducible? from
either side, movements are local.
we reside in pure neighbourhoods.
all existence outside is asleep.
the hallways contract. water runs
from & over our skin.
                                       shivered

and, as basis,
                        discovered this
world is just as dizzy. just in
new increments. not eating for days
sends you sick. eating for days
does likewise. broken down or
breaking down, we idle and
sleep and sometimes hope for
coalescence (or, at least, as far
as i can find). but, meadows, too,
still sleep, forests still sleep. all
alive is this room, or shadow,
or minute discharge radius. so, if
you aren't here or closer, how can
anything matter? asleep & passing
through city-light. tender ghost.
sweet summary. some days, even
i am discontinuous, but only for
passing swathes. field underfoot
& distance now mean little more
than nothing, and little less than
everything. and, as dual, i
could hardly forget. scale &
continue in each second. it is
cold & getting colder, and i've
figured out how to miss you,
                          already.