With a Nod to Dio and Owl City


It’s a confused jumble…If you try to make it make sense you will cry alone for a non-existent home. Smile the crooked smile.

Tomorrow.

Yes tomorrow.

All behind is enough salt water to drown in for thousands of lifetimes washed out to sea and left this old beach covered with treasures. They play upon weary eyes in the morning sun setting too fast into stars whirling into your beautiful soul.

My hands are empty. Full of the nothing of the universe. Laughing. Feeling death close sometimes but not a strange threat but a simple reality. Holding clouds and sunshine and rain in open fingers splayed to play with nothing. Form and mould nothing into dreams and fantasies of love. Never hungry in my mind I live lives past imaginations and whole encyclopedias and even ‘ten billion fireflies’.

Feel the changes in the winds fall upon the earth like catching speed and falling gems breaking apart in wild scattered analogous to reality of nothing inwards outwards words swords stirred into soup some call insane but I understand it all too well…

Heaven and Hell…

You asked me what it means to love? You are like Dorothy wearing shoes you don’t know you own. How can I tell you what love means when the world calls ‘need’ love? You gave me a black circular gypsie skirt with silver sequins on it and let me wear your life you walked upon to bits and now I have a silver cuff with South American medallions and your tearful question.

What does it mean to feel passion and feel it die over and over and over until your heart grows nothing but rust and dried roses? How to answer your beautiful old child-like face as my fathers eyes use mine to see what you are that you cannot see…how to bear the reality that we all dance away from each life is swiftly as…

…yes it is gone again.

The moment.

Love rides the high skies sliced by light in darkness without name it cries tears and suffers for no return and smiles. How can you say you have not known passion? How can you ask the definition of love from one who cannot even hold the sun and clouds in both empty hands?

All the things I should have done…they mean less than the nothing I cannot hold. They did not happen. How can I explain to you what nothing means? How nothing can make you suffer until you ask for death to marry you and when it comes you stare at it and fight to live and keep on fighting when the reasons are no more than moonlight silvered day under scudding storm clouds I do not want to walk yesterday again if I cannot change it.

I only have tomorrow.

I only have the next moment.

The stairs sway and rock like the earth wobbles on the stiletto spinning drunkenly as if hit…we blew it up inside and out with mushroom blasts and radical matters and suicide crews whose melanin stayed to fight as if programmed by a thought alone that vibrated like a sound…

…like a prayer…

Pray out loud. Make the electrons dance. Pray with every cell in your being. Pray or cry because I hate to feel the force behind the words…the rent veils tattered in the sowing winds…You ask me what is passion?

It is loving souls you never touch as if they live inside your own and breath every breath you share their eyes and hands and fell the things they feel in hungry nights or bliss of the first kiss or…face and face and face and face again each star-like lovely face is cupped in empty hands full of…

….nothing.

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