the scene

imagine you are flying on a rag made of steel linen, and all that is left is barbarous ruins beneath your glass slippers, were you to step down.

"i've spilled everything!" she cried, gleaming down, actively alarmed, at the bottle of absinthe. quickly, he unbolted each of the radiating plates, adopting them into the flowerless breeze. they rose, not holding hands, but strung together with sautered ropes of stardust; hidden.
"it's ruined!" she sobbed, sounding like anarchy itself. he smiled to her, understanding nothing, knowing that he loved her strange sounds and skin, and the glittering transparency of her feet. 

t a l k

"I did my best, it wasn't much. I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch. I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool ya. And even though it all went wrong, I'll stand before the Lord of Song with nothing on my tongue but hallelujah."

I can't find a single pair
of open arms
in this scattering room
that is a world -
an entire, rushed,
shattered railroad of
constantly falling tears
blinded, silent screams
shrieking internally
for someone,
somewhere or when
that she knows.
Everything's smashed
on an open window
Forging, frightened,
blackened, reneglede,
fragmasdulus -
entirely inarticulate
a shambled mess
of unspoken and
unreached, trying to
breathe -
just for a breath.
Swim and scream
and bleede.
Bleed thick blood,
coated in reminisce,
slipping away
and away and far
more than far
more than what
lightning can touch.
It can touch me,
the unreal -
the unwritten.
What if I had lived?

"I come to the garden alone."

I'm going to miss your voice. It's so deep and calming and I feel like it goes straight to my soul. I'm going to miss it on the phone, and in bed with those late night, almost asleep "love you"s.
I'll miss your laugh and your smile and your goofiness and your idiocy and your honesty, and your loyalty and your morality and your manliness.

"The night will have no stars and you'll think you've gone as far as you can get."

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