A coma loving from afar,
when the sun turns its back lift me off this sphere.
A waning gibbous a house of shame self-righteous angels deserting,
infinity my bondage Shakespearean tears forgiving the truth of no tomorrow.
Detecting unsung planetary hues the jailing of my senses,
endless silence locked doors in a shroud of dust my frozen nothingness.
For all that stays to see to my comfort is now the time of rest for all that I keep?
The grace of being here
I am time uninspired…
Settling on the ocean floor hoping to look inside of all that I cannot remain,
allowing my sight to be taken falling into what is not true thy universe as a comic strip.
Rivers ancient and running through us all,
casting shadows only as a fossil did I evolve.
To whisper quietly into the air the traversing of thee,
on a moonless night the stars I do not count.
As I tread each step made of glass presented as an answer
the waste of me.
More than paint on a canvas
a maker of puzzles
new and partial my soul in exhibition.
More than my frayed edges ominous and beautiful the twelve strokes of midnight,
the ambient noise I became
hidden in each my concept of a black hole.
Peek inside my abandoned heart
thy shadow dances across the praiseful,
sheltered by the trees in the forest
the end I do not write…
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