"If you love a flower that lives on a star, then it's good, at night, to look up at the sky." There will be many flowers on many stars, "all the starts are blossoming" and "all the stars are laughing."

I am unable to be tamed by the frills of a single skirt. I am an empty desert for the Sun. My days are already filled with sunshine and my nights are never the norm. I would recognise the familiar clap of your heals in the pitch room, different from the rest, before you warmed your body against mine. But other footsteps do not send me underground and your voice is not the only one that calls me out of my burrows. I am curious to meet the world, the hunters dance whenever they choose. So let us throw away the routine that attempts to tame me so, and hold your anticipation to meet well after four. I'll still hold a spot for your body next to mine, and when we both take time away to learn to live, both of us shall never cry and the sun will still glisten on the water that trembles when we're close.

My dreams are the orgasms of life. Coming closer until the tensions breaks,leaving an unadulterated moment to bask in a sense of perfection; short-lived, before the struggles of life coil themselves around me. Solid; binding all neurosis together into the concrete form I call my self. True blue is the colour of perfection, still, untangled in the lies of the world. True blue is the colour of the eyes that can gaze into my soul.

Bundled tight in cloth and custom, decades pass without a light. The cold makes fresh the thought and feeling; but sense alone can take to flight. The ground is solid, frost and frigid. The sky is lonely, stark and bright. So weigh these bones to touch the surface until sweet death does bring us right.

Sometimes the only way one is able to express their love is to fight for it.

"Your never going to look God in the eyes, but you will see the reflections of what God gives us."

Beneath the calm serenity of sky lies the soul of the One I love.
Though my heart grows stronger still, the tears and smiles of life lead us apart. Owe, how it hurts so good, the symmetry of beauty captures my ideal. The complexities of my own eyes lead me always to the same light. Still, what moves me most is the tears and smiles of my love; cast upon the wonderment and gaze of many. The symmetry and complexity in the tears of my lover, on the shoulders of another.

- . +

"Accommodate me, don't assimilate", he bellows inside as though it came from the bottom of his gut, a wave of euphoria and fear washes over him, stripping of a mind and desire to conform to the monotonous, and leaving a stinging awareness that awakens a self deserving to stand alone. He has no choice but to retreat, escaping the turmoil of an absolute, infinite reality and position himself in the unending matrix. It is his turn to be the master of his own creation. The dissolving of his thoughts into everything. All he can do is ride a last crash of the come-down wave home.

Water beats down on the timber frame, free from turbulent restraints high above;the troubles and concerns of yesterday. Rain drops collects on the heavy branches, rolling unending down the cedar needles into soft earth, pooling around it's trunk. The nectar of wet dirt and juniper fills the air and it is impossible to see anything less than perfect in the moment. This is what I imagine heaven would be like if it could have its own subtle imperfections, bitter sweet, less than euphoric but worth more in feeling. Our lips touch softly and I inhale a deep breath of coconut, lust and life. I know this bliss will be gone just as soon as it came, so all I can do is turn off my mind for now and let it leave gracefully. I have been told if you love something, you must give it away peacefully and just hope to see it again in the end. The hardest part is waiting in vain for it to never return. The candle on the bedside table begins to flicker intensely, images of contentment strobe through my eyelids into the back of my mind. A watery bead touches down on the porous floor and for an instant I feel human again. The salted tear absorbs into cedar, the flame quivers and dims to the deep pitch of night, our lips part. The taste of burnt wick, wax, lust and fragments of coconut fade into the back of my throat.

Thoughts twist and mingle with the mist;
a labyrinth of life,
a sun beneath my fist.

The world lies awake, restless for the dawn.
The moon stands asleep.
Delusions, begone.

The rain cries for more,
the stars watch, intent.

The birds talk in tongues,
the thunder is spent.