has ceased to provide
its mutilating function
Descartes has severed us
entirely
from the bravery
of being whole and ignorant
of refusing fire and making
love and war
in the same anti-time
we rejoice
at the challenge of destruction
and forget the ease of ruin
the engines of despair working us ceaselessly
well I am incapable
unwell I am capable of anything
except to add more paper to the bonfire
of Earth's dead shell
which we inhabit like a plague

The line between you and I
Once hard and fast
Steel grey and black
Now fades and simmers away
To silvery white
Cloudy mist
And you are seeping into me
And I am seeping in to you
Our divisions are mumbled
Woven and interconnected
I have lost track
Of where you end and I begin
And I'm dizzy with it all.

His mind was a factory
A bustling grey and charcoal factory
With machines to create thoughts
But all so systematically
All so perfect precise concise
Not a mistake not a slip was made
The sounds of smooth clicks
And echoes under foot vibrations
All was smooth
All was purposeful
Until she asked for a tour
She asked with innocence and naivety
And he let her in tentatively
She marveled at his systemic mind  
And questioned and awed.
But no one had ever
Entered his mind like this before
And she distracted him
They heard a crash
as a machine malfunctioned
And a thought toppled and shattered
The pieces exploding like a firecracker
Against the grey charcoal floor
He panicked and tried to pick up the pieces
But echoes of a breaking mind tore at his ears
As more thoughts shattered.
He was loosing control
And all because of her
This girl was making him lose his mind
He went to a corner and tried to regain himself
Closed eyes and shaking heart
He sat and stayed,
Oblivious
Emerging he stared
Stared at the prices of his shattered mind
That she arranged
Into an intricate mosaic
And somehow in that moment
He saw a beauty in the brokenness
Something he had never seen before

On the day
her body burned
she asked the
winds to be
her friends
and they
picked her
up and poured
her through
the fingers of
their hands
like a river
without ending
that won't
be tied or
bound, until
every trace of
dust embraced
the freedom it
had found.

You're the one with a fist
Around my heartstrings
And I don't see the benefit
In projecting your crimes

I hear you around the corner
And I want you to show
Yourself so we can
Be good again

There's no such thing as freedom
When you're being chased, love