vpoet, re:

in today’s society,it’s hard to tell thecrazies fromthe normies–you seesomeone talking to themself,and then find a wireattached to their caller.

i would travel this Earth,these Planets,this System/Solar,these Spirals,this Galaxy–of all Time to You i will reachif there be no way to crawl–may these words, these thoughts, thisbleed upon paper/a sentencingof unruly/broken sheets sprawled while inquiet beg of You: Queen, Angel, Princess, Smile: Your response in silence to a taking-breath pull of Gravity, mine: [...]

the focus of your photograph leaves you shaking, breaking laugh for cry of body/of clutch of me for knöw’ i’m here– could you see me, would you stare in ‘turn so shaking is seen not by me, but with you?

once, far from here, an angel knewher way to waker’s dreams–or were they photographs?–or were they lost in determination?–either the way, she, in me, was heldwithout hands nor mind, but in suspension‘wixt lips’ limits, wide in silent breathe of her,this, the only angel willed to walk ’spite her wings,those risen or drift-in wind cumbersome things

we are as the shadow is:a reflection/sign/symbol of something                                    different
with word wound tight to thought/                                          lip
time is but a calendar,a marking of what is, forwithout such limits, how quickened would the                                                mind be?
i deserve all which forefollows me.

You’ve taken my thoughts,Leaving this emptinessto void, a shadow’d inkBut spilled and left for dry.

finnecky wind breaks past unshuttered window,waving loudly ‘gainst thoughts of you in wantof some response inward/tongue-led toward silence,love’s closest ally in defense of isolation–what word rises, rests in swoop-drawn perchupon mind’s budding spicket stuck/imobile withinbody’s pearl-mounted barrier or cavern-positionedcatcher of the breeze in motion numb’d beneath shiver-leaves.

that feeling– thewarmth/numb of skin under self–hownerve folds,burning/casting in for fear of char–that breath/stagnant,waitingfor tide of motion to sooth/to part itswake–that silence,boiling steady in simmer’d spotso distant as to be unreachable yetscarring to touch–whatlies upon this wind in making fragrance/heata palpable taste of something/of lightened airin rub of ‘neath?

bend ‘fore breaking,break ‘fore bending,leaveor speak‘fore both.

You’ve taken my thoughts,amongst which you have my heart.