Days of correction

We wait for you, as the heavens fall.
As the skin begins to be pulled from our bones.
The sea foam swallows.
Thunder follows.
And all around the sparks flicker.
We wait for you to catch up.
The lead in your blood to bleed out.
A correction, an alteration.
A mind frame recalibration.
I wait for you, till the end of time.
Modifying what was placed inside your DNA.
The world is ending, and time hangs like a necklace.
Heavy and beautiful around your neck.
You need to move faster.
Evolve and leave the husk of darkness resigned,
to a space only the ghosts will welcome.
We are in the age of correction.
A simple state of detection.
Of knowing what to take, and what to leave behind.

On cosmic sand

Varied in hues, blurring to a view of angelic replication.
Divinity leaking from your bones.
I find you there, holding on to the edge of redemption.
Picking pearls up from our past.
The beach weighs heavy, cresting out from our circumstance.
I had to travel to find you.
You had to forget to believe.
In this peaceful rush of sweet sea air.
Mottling the very face of time.
I have returned, to that place where forever was promised.
Now, as sparks in the sand threaten joy.
The colour of contentment washes over you.
Knowing that the next step will demand such strength.
And in the arms of each other.
We are rock steady and prepared.

Origami razor blades

We lost some strength we can’t replace.
The soul was bared, in places unprepared.
Fate slipped across our wrists.
Eternity flashed across our eyes.
But no demise.
Those feelings won’t ever fade.
Memories now scorched into us.
Illuminating our real selves.
I saw what I wanted to change.
And where to now?
What siren call, or ocean tide beckons.
Nothing here wants to remain.
Yet we cannot leave just yet.
Until the broken is repaired.
And the sacred is shared.
We must climb in place.
Plastering the walls with pretty views.
Painting our souls spiritual hues.
Ones that glow a beauty from within.
Showing us fragile and divine.
Folded out of angelic paper wings.
A product once more of god’s design.

When you think about your life, I surround you in a gentle sympathy

Oily hands which pin warnings to the walls of your paper cathedrals.
Closing their eyes to the view of sorrow.
It stretched before them, and under your skin.
Cool, when not engulfed in such flames of disgust.
Little cracks in stone, slowly crumble pillars of discontent.
The columns that held our gods too high.
Out of reach, on the horizon.
How can we touch the finger of god.
When we choose to crawl on swollen bellies.
Pick the needle which will penetrate the precious heart.
Kept in glass, and passed down and around but never treasured.
Wake up those angels which sleep inside.
Do not run and hide, from a future which began yesterday.
Tip the grey to another shade and shake out a song.
One which can be played at any funeral.
Signalling a death of something, and the beginning of such wonder.

Go slowly

The second guessing, the never knowing.
Framing the mistakes we make.
Blessed with an ability to undo me.
Take me down, feel your way.
Leave nothing on this body to explore.
Don’t sit there motionless because you know the answer.
Discover.
Over and over again.
This skeleton underneath.
This heart that beats.
A sweat that runs for you.
Mind your step as you flee the room.
(Please wait while I undress).
[Re-dress.]
Address your intent.
We all want to play in traffic, but this is serious now.
Break me like a three year old would.
Love me like you were meant to.
Hold it all in your hands.
For I’ve come from the land of gold.
Such precious illusions for you.
As I hold my breath.

The Ecstasy of anyone


THE ECSTASY OF ANYONE

Kiss me when the world is watching.
Take me when the night time comes.
Explore me until something shocking.
Rattles in your bones and hums.
Taking you to seventh heaven.
Letting Allah kiss you on the mouth.
Praise me once, or six or seven,
times until our heads go south.
For in my lap you’ll find the answer.
In my mind you’ll find the key.
Your fingers will become a master.
In unlocking this mystery.
But this is more than cheap gymnastics.
There is more than sweet ecstasy.
For my heart is linked to your tantric,
ways of love which I cannot flee.
You have my heart, my precious treasure.
You have my soul, my body and mind.
So with it all, I offer such pleasure.
A union, till the end of time.

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Readying recovery

Trying to find lucidity.
Cupping thoughts in my hands.
Fallen from my eyes.
Lost treasure.
Stolen preciousness.
The soul acting like a window.
Allowing them inside to steal, to rearrange.
Feeling lost, yet knowing where I’m trapped.
Ghosts lay upon my skin.
Licking at the wounds.
Drinking them all in.
The moments and memories.
Webs of pain strung up by circumstance.
When was I ever allowed to breathe.
To feel the sun on my skin.
Without the chill from a passing cloud of consequence.
Must we break free from the circle.
Or does it allow us to begin again.
Lighter than before, once all demons are dropped.
Lifting to the sky where we once belonged.