in a another skylight, consolation. shelter to decipher constellations turning.

tower, channel longing higher, survey how desire turns the lock.

how much has interior vision changed since your eyes downcast were set in stone? our revolutions of life remain unfathomable.

remaindered behind the gas pipe, no longer harbingers of mystery, but letters lost to purgatory.

gone the torn shreds of yesterday, the wind that ploughed the river to foam and ghosted heads into undoing.

twist the damp stair through the dark well, those shut doors and worn treads are not going to give up their secrets.

there are another paths in parallel, slowing slips fate, surrenders the destination.

rest your forehead against science fiction, press the switch that reads elsewhere.

it was only a brief template, the stones barely registered the intrusion. hopefully there is no afterlife.

the river runs mist and wind, beyond the rise the sun lives on. shallow water gives the sky a mirror to compare how things are lost.

take it back down to the level, loose the wayward straggle of the year, hope the heart doesn't fail.

the fight is rigged, a push to build, a pull to strip, trust curdles in the stand-off.

it is the hate that smothers, stuck under skin like lead. strip it out to wave slender in the wind.

power beyond me, inside a pull to become one with this redeemer, but eyes avert destined to blindness.

when i cant reach with my hand, the long lines gather in what i need.

lipping the suns voltage, no USB, no cynicism, no sweeteners, this drop of blood glistens.

don't lead me on, is there is more than? is there less than? i am my equals sign.

palms to dirt, an unshouldering of irrelevance, a reception of non-judgement, the only honest moment.

the pines have been writing out their song book and folding it into airplanes beyond our fingers.

i think the shadow falls marking the same threshold, would we notice a falling short, if change eroded our foundation stone?