I put her in this book
I write her down as "Z"
Because I have a Beautiful
Little secret.

She's only made,
for me.

I got inside her heart
On that day I travelled
To this new Galaxy

But it's never been
Dark.

It's filled with...

Dreams
Goals
Aspirations

We have...

Destiny

I fall in-love again
every time I see her
Face, the smile she has
Can never be replaced

And when she just,
gets me my heart is
First in the race
Minds and Memories
Never erased.

From this whole book,
of what you are
And I hope to spread it...

Everyday

Together we've already
Created our own
Legacy

And when we use similar,
words like...

Jealousy
Envy

But we wouldn't mean
To do it on purpose

Only the purpose by
Fact not Chance
To show people,
the meaning of...

Truely Happy

So take my hand,
and walk with me.

And sometimes
The Way you look at me?
It takes my breath away

Sometimes I even.

Forget to breathe

And sometimes I'm lost
For words and I look and
Smile, reasons being
It's just to see yours...

If only for a while.

The way you push your
hair to the left to cover
Your face so nobody else
knows.

But it's the face I want
To hold and show people
Of what I have
The core of the earth

Stronger than Diamond

The Way I can pull you up
From the lowest of your lows.
With my hand in yours
It fits perfectly.

The way a kiss
Can make your whole day
And the way it speeds up mine
For the next time.

You know?

The Passion Of being there
I'll be your best friend and more
Hoping to open all the doors
And take a course

In You

The way we've made our promises
And the days we send pictures
To show the way
Where it's hard when We Leave
And the way I Miss You

But...

It's the way I Miss You
Feeling soo numb,
Has never been soo?

Familiar?

Can you imagine
Being in the desert with no water?
Being on the bungie with broken rope?
Being the kid with no hope?
Being in the darkest cave without light?
Two working eyes and no sight.

So now small parts of me
Are processed in ink,
cut deep within an put
On paper.

Because I feel?

Alive

I've got this case,
Of Love so put me trial
Give me the life sentence
You're definetly going
To be worth while.

Humans get really crazy,
When they are are the polar opposite of lazy.
Climbing up a mountain, jumping from the sky,
This is a completely different kind of high.

Bungie jumping, shark diving,
Any activity that ends in dieing.
They go out of the box, while sane people stay in,
To get that dose of adrenaline.

No town homes in my hometown
We throw up and we throw down
Drinks pour up, tears pour down
No outlet in this port town

Glass crumbs and shards
elephant-skinned sidewalks smeared with tomato paste
the streets remember
potato-tipped death machines
starchy falsetto bullets
the cracking
window
skull
smushy hamburger meat brain
meet bullet—meet steering wheel—meet
                                ster
e
                     ­                                                 o

my little brother stays in a shelter
on American and California
where babies
sit themselves
change
is a dollar short
and DST
stands for daylight shootings time

Grandfather time
please stroke your shredded wheat goatee just a little longer
postpone apocalyptic
soon the children will hop skotch on chalked body silhouettes
and jumprope with bungie cord intestines

But not him
my little commando
he will find a way out
depart from home plate
three strikes carved on a flaming chariot
soaring through the sky like barbasol jet streams
the great
                                                           ­          escape

I loved you like a brother for so much longer than you ever deserved
Somehow those fourteen years have slipped away from me
And I think that if we're being honest you don't know a thing about me
Let me tell you that there is good reason for this
I hope that someday it hits you out of nowhere like a broken bungie cord
We gave you a home when home was the last place you wanted to be
But I can't escape the fact that all you can do is mock my very existence
Almost like you feel you could take my place so easily if I was gone
Removed somehow from a picture I was painted into years before you
We all know that no monster can wear a mask forever
I've always known this day would come but I thought we had passed all this
Maybe I should've known the day would come a second time
But somehow I always find you on my doorstep without a key
I fear that I will never be rid of you because even when you're gone you find a way
You don't even hear the words that come out of your mouth
It used to be empty apologies every other day
But now its just an offense without an amend I honestly thought you were smarter than this
You make me sick and I'd trade you for the plague just to feel peace
I've never heard someone talk so much with nothing to say and no ears to listen
You once told me that the only reason you would never leave her
Is because you know you would never find someone else who could love you
What a waste of a beautiful girl who will never know any better
Than to sell her heart in fifth grade and never learn how to take it back
People like you are everything that's wrong with the world
I had hoped I would learn something from this at the very least
But maybe all I can take away from this is that some people can't be changed
I never wanted to think like this but this is the change you've made in me
At night I tear you apart in my dreams and I'm so sorry but I wake up with a smile
*~W.C.

The capped monkey worked
to fill up his cup of change.
Cents that made no sense
To free himself and hopefully his people.
What is your purpose?
Capped monkey.
Why are you here?
Capped monkey.

At the highest amongst your people
All with the help of money.
How can they be amongst you?
Capped monkey.
It is because you are controlled?
Capped monkey.
I guess that means we are trapped
Like ants to honey.
Now we all look like dummies
Because we decided to follow
The capped monkey.
So I say...

We have to look past the delusions
We have to look past the disguises
We have to think through the illusions
And open our eyes.
He is like I
Yet he is controlled and capped
And he who controls him
Has all of my people trapped.

Everything we are suppose to know
Is hidden.
That means whoever hid it
Has the right to tell us
What is written.
All to change our way of life
With efforts from the capped monkey.
Ahead of his people because
Of how he was trained.
Assisted by a large sum of money.
You know what's funny?
I bet his leash is like a bungie
So if he does stray from his controller
He is snapped right back
Into making us all trapped.
Who knows how these years will play out.
Therefore, I shout...

We have to look past the delusions
We have to look past the disguises
We have to think through the illusions
And open our eyes.
He is like I
Yet he is controlled and capped
And he who controls him
Has all of my people trapped.

You linger in my minds forest like the smell of night Jasmine,
The smoking embers of our passion are there entombed,
Lumpy Charcoal feelings choking like a smokers last breath,
Winding up my wild cerebrum as if a trebuchet.

I wish my aim to be true,
To exhale Cupid as all my stupid, arrowed words unglue,
They fade to watermarks on cue.
Passing through the tapestry of our dyed dying friendship,
Before the emotionproof ark of my heart comes to rescue?
This trip is in vein, my pulse the reins of a galloping aorta

They abdicate their royal virtues my eyes
I lay marooned by your smiles and sighs and thighs
My pride preserved,
Pimentoed by the luminous unfoiling of your hips.
The bite of your ripened lips, recoil my courage like bungie cord

And your words are like spring

I'm in Pittsburgh all the ******' time. Well, I used to be.**

I used to go bridge jumping,
lace ***** bungie jumping.
I had options, now it's Market St.
over the Susquehanna or the
long bar at the pub.
****! I miss the Steel City like
missed calls, not at all then all at once.
Stuck in Pepsi-Cola Central, Pennsylvania, in an armchair down the hall from my room flooded with pictures of lovely Pittsburgh. Single-pane windows come close to glass
skyscrapers. Kind of.

Not at all.

With no wind beneath my wings
With no dawn to my night
Hook, line, sinker.
If I'm a shark in a lake too small
Then in the sea, I'd be the shark pulled from the water.
My nativity is all I have.
My blind faith in the future.
I'm taking ten steps forward with a bungie cord tied around my ankles. Who knows what it's tied to.
Who cares?
All I know is that;
Quelling this fear will take more than a quill.
The distilled ***** tastes better with coke.
That ups are counteracted by gravity
And that same gravity will hold me down.
What the **** am I fighting for?

Snow piled high like browning ashes,
Sky-wide cigarette drops its withered body parts
Under the orange glow of deteriorating wired suns.
Stuff up my duffel bag head
While you're already unpacking.
It's cold and clear,
Reoccurring as in a habit.
So take a minute to fold it all up nicely.
Lost my luggage like a bungie-cord station wagon,
Dry wooden panels seas of cupholder beer
Split second glances at concrete blended jeans and t-shirts
In my rearview mirror.

.a man dies and whoever remains: become to intolerable - no one is willing to achieve a former status quo but life demands a status quo of sorts... that now there's a dragging sensation: a drawing toward the grave - how death beams illuminating while it eats memory and strikes at the bells of: what was, now impossible... otherwise: caricature since now and caricature culminating with now... a man dies and whoever remains so intolerable: how would it sound sacrificing my body to the memory of the sea - how strategic, little man... man of consequence and of no little to begin with... my words less than tabloid smearing: my words less than the purpose and worth of butter on a piece of bread: yes... i smear ink into phonetically encoded shapes - letters - are a reminder: for the canvas of toast and too boot: some butter to spread... collateral: always this collateral - free thinking basic structures and the great trampling - a levelling that is the antithesis of former explorer guises - to have to uproot and to deface to have to "revise": to actually keep going "somewhere"... not "i": either a kleptomaniac or a hoarder of history... unless we start stacking all things measured to heave high, high... with our past to overshadow mountains... such "things" we have allowed ourselves to keep... to have cherish so: yet to have it scrutinised too and sold off so cheap... before the bravado of authentic objectivity: or some other wording... a suddenly died... i was wishing this for him... not this supposed brainless ol' ****, ol' alcoholic the same ******* excuses with that woman! burdensome leech... the same ******* excuses with this zombie-esque woman: this... "grandma"... i'm not here to make "friends" with this language: i know of people who have managed far more worse with it! thank you, very much! i'm not above settling seances with grief: if he only died authentically with a barely tolerable voice from the other side... but all these 3 months of secrecy... and all these scraps of money to concern oneself with: grandma... *****... now it's all about coordinating a re-orientating reproach on the matter... life so cheaply... "finished"? and she "thought" it necessary to bring god into the whole equation: that god might allow such awkward gesticulation for the body to endure... princess unicorn no less... spoke such honey coating bundles of lies... she still thinks the lie was spoken as if staged... as if she forgot her lines... the rot and the fermentation process needs to sink in... after all... the grandiosity of the event already happened... a supermarket cashier inquired as to why i was so dressed... a funeral attendee... 'was it a nice send off'... oh sure sure... a nicely packaged prize come to think of it: the corpse left some stamps... so... no problem... but how cruel the immediacy of a family member... i thank the ******* of an egyptian deity that i didn't invest in the purpose of family... i am certain of a painful death... a lonely death: or rather - a death with the world... not this... inheritance vultures... he didn't leave anything to be contested!  well... he might have... but i already have what no one else thought of as important... his stamp collection... what would have been better? a collection of pornographic magazines? ***** please... i wasn't expecting this from my grandmother: i was already towing baggage from a friendship... but this is just... the ultimate purpose of pessimism... to hell with stoicism... and all those words used for peacocking arguments... i'm chopping raw hind of a bull... i'm plucking out eyes from fish... i'm... doing my last, probably only interlude of thought before the agony of fire strips me back to the basics of passions and an ****** of pure, pain of conversation: detailing the withholding of truths by a bad liar... by a ******* phlegm of a pleb sort of culmination... more n.p.c.: but somehow still my own trajectory, here, "nuanced": now... shellshocked - blitzkrieg antics... after the funeral her envy for adolf ****** was so ******* pronounced: yeah... imagine my face... a stone somewhere was smiling with glee... because this has to absolutely make no... ******* sense! she calls a day prior to the death... she doesn't call a week prior: she calls when it is in the hands of the hospice folk to bring the agonia to a close... she decides to call a day prior to the death and on the day of the death... 3 months just escaped her... this is a woman who supposedly has a grandson... em... yeah... how do those lyrics sound like now: ***** tricks done dirt cheap... this is only banal evil... bored evil... i just remember all the verbal insults against him... at least i can celebrate him not hearing them ever again... oh yeah... and the h'american election happened... please... can this political enthusiasts bother someone else with their insomnia... 3/4 of the world is sleeping... it's not that important that, or anything new... come spring after winter, summer and back toward autumn... it was nothing new that democracy is what it is... a casino of telling the most ****** lie... he pushed the epitaph concerning the necropolis mingling with democracy... in manus tuas... he said the only democracy was the democracy the dead would revel in... i need to call her up and tell her... that she needs to include an epitaph on his grave... fiat lux let light be made)! or floruit (one flourished)... genius loci (spirit of the place)... habeas corpus (you may have the body)... i like this last one... most! a fitting epitaph to write on a grave... n'est ce-pas?! habeas corpus ad subjiciendum.

well d'uh: no brainer...
i got to say goodbye to a corpse...
and that's always better
than saying goodbye
to an urn of ash...
and boy... if ol' granny decided
to fulfill the wishes of
her deawest deawest son
and had him turned into
a bowl of ask the ash:
and i didn't get to see him...
all suited and booted up
for the ceremony...
my god... the day you see
a corpse in an open coffin...
days old...
and you have anything
remotely fear: insinuated...
about... taking a casual
walk in a graveyard at night:
or in a forest...
i'm still dreaming cyclops:
i am not some
appeased dream architect:
i'm dreaming void...
a grandiose wound:
a yawning abyss...
a corpse in an open coffin...
in one of those prosectorium
waiting rooms...
where the tiles are not
that kind of: medicine proof green
of a post-mortem dissection...
they're woven from
white through to a darkening:
grey thoroughly...
oh hell... it's fun...
seeing a dead body like that:
it elevates the "beauty"
of what's casually a mere:
script at the end of a film...
sun, truck, lampost...
fox's worth of road-****...
the unlucky woodland pigeon
that miraculously died
mid-flight and wasn't seen
roosting for miles
on a pavement...
it's beyond sobering...
since you know all the requirements
to have paid the attention to detail to:
when there was a soul:
and now... given the absence
of the sigma of animation /
the sum of animation...
the heart can rot on its own,
the liver the kidneys...
it's not like there's anything
pulling all of his materialistic wizardy
by the *****...
seeing that...
and then come night, the solace
of solitude...
a forest or a graveyard...
i've come across scarier places...
living rooms of strangers...
in all honesty:
these chicken shacks of
bad actors in general...
a walking on stilts when telling
a blatancy of a lie...
now my comforts are
"criminal" / certainly counter-
to whatever bias could
come prior...
hardly one of those tim burton
hard-ons for the gothic and
quirky!
that i wish my grandmother
a speedy ****-off because
she had 3 months to tell me and "us"
what's what
but who the **** calls and speaks
of a death a day prior
then a day later... the death...
3 months of a descent!
well... lucky me that i got to say
goodbye to a ******* corpse:
not the still living ******* my pampers
momentary lapse of
lucid recollection...
and this world has to:
terribly, somehow, also, happen...
and its like this coincidental
metaphor for: the centre cannot hold...
yes, come the big world:
some mythological granny **** of
the blonde...
but hey... it's ava lauren in a suit:
and to boot: booted...
karmalaiah 'arris...
and you're like:
whittle 'ichard primo...
i'm already on the dumpster with me:
blood first arguments sinking
a blind eye and grizzle tooth load...
before i even allowed myself
to take a bite...
******* geocentric carousels of
north/east/south/west:
the one acronym: prior to
the methodology of the h'american:
scotus etc. luvvie-dubby
for the acronym chant: u/s/a!
yeah, case closed... let's pretend
how tomorrow unfolds...
by 1am i'll be a sleep-walking
slinky... toss the cards...
the grand-picture...
the world is not some forthcoming
as to allow... both engagements
and sympathy:
the immediately available response
is all reflexive: **** reaction
scream! oooh! ah!
           sooner i'll be allowed
to contemplate an indigestion "problem"
than a death of a would be patriarch...
then again:
you always marry into the woman' family...
thee sorry old story
of leaving your parents in
the gutter... your new father:
in-law: god bless his soul...
you ******* cleaving *****-worth-of
an-itching-monkey!
you! turnip quasi
aladdin's paladin and magic
carpet ride...
she allowed me to see
the corpse... 3 months: not a word...
and here are these...
puppets... bemoaning how unidealic
love forever is...
solvd me the question of
what love is:
this bogus cwy-baby pseudo:
irksome welsh "sympathy":
******* cwy-cwy: trill your
******* R!
tarantula bit you you can't start
a rolling escapade
with a tongue?
you some O'Haera or too drunk
too soiled to notice Irish?
let's just, hope... i...
haven't... the capacity to express
an authenticity of sorrow:
tilting on: "properly" with the:
authorities of who's to, read, what!
out of their own pockets:
it's... ******* free last time i heard!
question of bias...
this slap of meat:
will become either a plum poke tenderness...
or a brussel pate....
like they do in the prisons...
notably the russians...
they inject vaseline between
their knuckles... so they build
up a... pouch-of-a-fist...
no... oh no adrenaline shots... none
of the fairy liquid:
dandelions speak we dust it over
with unicorn horn dust...
n'ah... none of that...
it's my grandmother: i probably
should have not expected as little
as this... but then i like the idea
of her keeping up with
ghost theory...
she can haunt the castle
of her **** for: however more
concern for life is in her...
granny can *******, and how...
i might have... favoured her...
when she did... cwy... there's that welsh
spelling again...
but not come the advent of
a, death... take me up on seeing scenery with
you... any day: or the 3 months prior...
but... this...
of course: the limitations
of the conscience of liars:
you start to blame yourself:
oh why didn't... call...
you have to blame yourself:
she's not going to blame anything or anyone:
there are no exceptions to the rule:
thumbs galore!
seeing his corpse:
he did die...
having... kept...
an immaculate proof of fingernails...
an immaculate proof of fingernails
being kept: as swiss passport for an agreeable
handshake...
again: once more...
ask me tomorrow
and i'll reply likewise:
granny can die... if i ever see my
shadow fleeing:
that! i'll sooner mourn!
you would expect:
grannies are tender loving creatures...
unless my grandfather wasn't
a somewhat tamed lover of
keeping books... a philatelist... too...
i got it!
he just wasn't a don juan *******
philander of an unlimited access to:
***** liquor!
whatever the story:
there's just enough desired
discretion to pay homage and defend
the passing party...

both a philander and a philatelist?
what's next?
a zoologist and a d.j.?
i've ascribed myself an audience
with prostitutes:
the 3 Ps... priests... psychiatrists...
prostitutes...
in the current climate...
who's body's who?
i am mild mannered enough to know
that i'll be paying for a ****
rather than a free meal or a professional:
waggling of the tongue:
let alone the placebo of the corpus christi
*******... n'est ce pas?

yeah... just prescribe
me the ******* of the bull of Titian...
etc.
i'm sure to make enough
skin out of it for a Muhammed's rug
ed gein esque piece of:
fidgety: ain't it? unshaked ******* sack?
**** it... almost grainy...
stubble prone... begs the knees to question:
wha' and w-i-i?

unshackled extension of patterns
of predictable behaviour:
moi! contra ol' granny?!
shouldn't i have... none?
  n'ah: let us play the allowed game
of psychopathy...
who's watching, anyway?
it's not like we're going to sing a song...
a tiny little song in the centre
of the earth... wiener blut...
and what happened within the confines
of the fritzl case:
circus of horrors readied as freely
available bread! corpus... christi!

        by the looks of it...
there was ever only one individual
sentenced to undergo the torture
of being crucified..
only 'im alone... psychopath uno!
and i am... to mea culpa this sort
of *******?!
i would cling to islam as a janissary sooner
than i might clip a sheep's worth
of wool...
i don't like this sadomasochism...
no... i like the shape of my own shadow:
but how the hebrews and the greeks
will pursue: even being the toursits
come auschwitz! this shadow
of the cross..

i am a sheep attired in wolf-skins...
i sheepeople blah blah from time
to time...
who are you? who am i?!
ha!
i sometimes think of myself
as balaam... sometimes nero...
as ever... konrad von wallenrod!
in the hindu circus of reincarnation!
am i... ahem... not... allowed?!
i take to grimmace:
by the body entomped:
one soul "sold"...

granny can ******* nonetheless...
i belong elsewhere to start the argument:
ex nihil!
to praise looking for a raving
lunatic with too many words
in his mouth...
i think that's where "i think" coincides itself
for an ulterior purpose:
i suppose i breathe...
i propose that i also eat!
scraps of meat...
salted pork... works miracles
with the miracle men of the crescent moon!
as does the "excess" skin
of ******...
not that i would sacrifice my ******* *******
so easily...
i need to pretend to shake hands with
ghosts: forever...

oh you can have my tonsure my kippah:
prior to my *******...
any excess skin concerning the ****?!
ha ha!
i just want to make sure!
you... never... grit...
actually... can... ever... know...
who's playing who's game...
being so blatantly pass... arrogant...
with one's lies?!

i believe the horde... i believe the herd...
i'm yet: i am utmost...
questioning... the little... incy-wincy... spider...
details of... consceince unravelled...

yes: the universal percentage detail:
translates back toward all subjectivities!
a fraction of objectivity: 0.01%
will later govern all the subjectivities of
the 99.99: thus proclaimed:
sterile grieves!

how well connected are we: aren't we?!
we hope to suppose:
and a neighbour allows...
not that we: we just... bungie-jump
into a ***** of the social contract!
no one is readied for this side-project
of society...
oh... wait... the police are policing
hate crimes of "hate speech"...
**** it... ****... pillage...
the balkan states are ripe for an
ottoman takeover...
was i about to blink to imitate...
nodding?!

yet as much as i might sway with
a phatom lady:
upon pretending to toy with a tango:
my toes are replica shrapel toys
with the toils of grip:
my little details... at best
my least bitten-into toenails...
             how about i grow a beard
of a goat's concern...
or grace a camel with a metaphor
of a needle...

this one hebrew is by no means
a noah: i... have to... pretend a martin luther...
they have their ****** tel aviv and israel!
what's not to "like":
h'america?
isn't that project of inquiry
burning it solid last in a ******* toaster
of mc and o'
                     celtic broods concerning
who's to divide up Boston?

the jews have their: recovered land:
i'm sure they can take back
their prized tool of converting
the northern folk with them:
it's not like the polish concenctation camps
ever gave them the *****...
because... no! oh no!
the germans didn't know about them!
yiddish wasn't born into german...
it was also and always this:
pan-slavic gensture of:
will you please integrate:

well hello sheepeople!
  you almost were deserving this
congregative... charm...
            no offence... time the conquest
of france... and the... french resitance...
yeah... once the germans and the russians
came simultaneously...
to carve up...

like charles bukowski said:
the trannies, the gays and the jews
have all relevants "things" to say...
they're the power brokers...
we're just the imbecile:
ant esque drones...
trained monkeys...
    'becile crispness of the tongs...
leisuring wet brass...

we allow people such ghostly firaments
of purpose beyond their expected
concern for a grave:
we allow their little besooth lying...
how cheap and zombie-esque they have
to become: grandma in tow...
even these closest to us...

it's like we are forever tugging
a warring: total...
never helped by a prospect of calm...
forever from those closest to us...
b'ah!
take it from us from the most 3rd party
sincere...
there's hope:
you will never have to heave
to be expected to...

can i tell christ to *******?
no... he's not welcome!
if i have to use muslims for the task:
i'll happily be "coincident" -
test the role
myself via the roles of
janissaary or mamluk...

honestly? what can christianity offer me?
an aching pagan ritual hope
of an ailing translation of heaving?
who? the congregation
hybrid?
      no... scrificial lamb
on the satire of shadow with a cross...
come the mongol teasing
the mountain of skulls of baghdad:
and... england is still a place where
a shakespeare or a dickness is to be born...

me? i very much like the romance
of staging a janissaary or a mamluk
prospect...
who's dead and who:
looks like...
whittle ol' grandma
can *******: be on her way...
sooner my shadow runs off with
the sunrise than i might giver a shitload
of care: she could have prescribed me...
when alt-vater was breathing his last...
yes...
because hemarrhoids and periods
were... forever alien to us!

Shadows of mountains
parade over valleys within.
Streams resemble arteries,
sustaining life,
as trout evading anglers
reveal cascading thoughts
of life and death
that society proclaims
meaningless in movies:
Hollywood’s refrain.

Cheaper by the dozen.
A cartoon fantasy
where bodies once dismembered
return in the next scene.

Children believing pictures;
a thousand words forgotten.

Time standing still
in a bas-relief of life
carved in plaster panels,
a faux façade
over doorways;
an entry in a fun house
at an arcade.

Paragons of virtue.
Derision enforced
with narcissistic selfies
taken on the precipice of mountains
at the edge of a cliff
overhanging the valley.
A swan-dive into the unknown.
A bungie-cord off a highway
or the bridge over the River Kwai.
The new reality forsaken
in a technological haze.

Passage through the looking glass;
Mushrooms in a bottle;
revealing the future of society
to those indoctrinated
and inculcated,
yet reduced to texting hyperbole
as syntax disappears
and the lexicon dismembers.
Devout believers in the new world order.
Refrains of disenchantment;
disenfranchising;
by groups of devotes
of the hyper-sensitive
who perceive only their own vision
in a world of their own making.

Questions never-ending.
A virtual canvass of destiny
held in a moment of tranquility,
yet unable to sustain.

6/24/19

www.brucelevine.com
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07485W4Q1

A EUYO is the bungie version of
the 28 EEC tithed member states.
All are all umbilically connected
to a Boomerang centre in Brussels
where they are permitted to orbit
but are never allowed to deviate or
escape its gravitational pull which
has become more magnetic since
The Untied Kingdom availed of a
rare opportunity and went AWOL.

i was a drunk,

which is no excuse.

i wanted peace for loving you.

we fell to stars,

in a life without sun.

too bright for both of us,

i bungie jump into the dark.

and still among the stars,

there you are.

maybe i missed my mark,

maybe i fell too far.