taking the skin off, an intake of breath and something leaves.

possession is a shut door, bonds cut, the song of unseen birds is an invitation to drift.

the charge builds, where is the line to shift the oppression.

bent low and scrubbing, you pass my dirty back, clasping your clean hands.

the station tannoy lists all the cities i have lived, apologising for the delay to the journey.

gold shines from your skin the sun deep within knows how to touch what it needs.

amassed, refined, sugared, gelatine coated.

my blue ridges lean to the edge of your garden.

city studded with sun, streets traversed, burning up the years.

a ribcage of lines drawn up to a gap, beating time, waiting at the cave mouth.

like the cat, the line imagines a fluid path inspection codes in dots and dashes.

drive in the nail, lay the claim, hell bent on dominium.

the more i demand direction, the more i meet my murk.

the surface shadows a fire a thousand years sunk, licking the edge of its visions.

c u where you pause to drop your guard.

the moment of being found, landing touch across space, reeling in the running away.

that reverie of space timeless, empty, receptive, yours.

such romance between ego and terror, between power and ruin.

i can take more of you, your water meets my earth and the pollen runs through our mud like gold.

the black hole births us, always ahead it pulls us out of ourselves.