Come softly through the window
where make-believe breathes—
Show me that world where sun
hemispheres of thought in a stark masquerade,
riddling through nothingness,
as rain-filled fingertips
trace the soul’s soft ache,
lapping silent against feet,
as if only a traveler passed—
A wanderer, a threadbare rebel in punk-laced shores,
It is your lips, curled in delicate grace,
that soothe this pounding heart
pressing thin between pages—
holy books of love and riddles,
seeds of hunger, need-driven thoughts
that feed the beggar in each line,
scratching at the soul with a metaphor’s grace.
Refinish the old, worn furniture of time,
feed soul on self-awareness, bridge
each hidden mask with light’s reflection.
There in twilight’s madness, a crack—
She plays Marco Polo in time’s tide,
laughter rolling until the night strikes,
harbor the ships of daydreams,
seeking crevices to slip into,
hungry for the grip of control.
hiding behind crooked fences,
Love, breathe me in, captivate—
let self rise on clouds of smoke,
as time rains down from heaven.
for beauty can weep only at itself.
Hope in each breath, life’s dear grace,
for together we sat, day falling to night.
and together we wrote a story,
when tides were high, moon full—
leaving home, entranced by Never,
and Never never looked so good,
riding chaos like a rollercoaster,
kissing its wild, ferocious mouth.
So laugh with me now, around this fire,
chanting gods and spells into the sky,
our love extending, tendrils reaching beyond,
light quivering, hearts entwined.
A thousand thoughts rush,
gnostic madness on my tongue,
into silences that drift,
in the gibberish of our awe.
pixelskylines
jbbartram-illu
titsay
yousharknotpass
germansingergirl
areudirty
dededos
