A misfit or a pilgrim where every path I take just brings me back to ‘x’ marks the spot where I start and end.
I don’t want to cry I don’t want to think I don’t even want to feel as every thread unravels unthreads, unwinds from memory to memory cast a-drift freelance and missing in action.
I hit and I miss but mostly I wish on stars made of empty peripheral faith and the closer I get the further the sounds fall away.
Branded by echoes searing the flesh scars are my only expression an art of a kind nothing less.
feeling the light slipping in teasing the shadows leaving me hidden in the corner bathed in shade black and white absence of grey I felt this morning a sense of laying against you back.... head to toe.... under the sheets just the sense of skin and pulse it was a close and satisfying feeling the simplicity of a touch with no demands as though, if I lay there long enough with you I would watch the lines of your tattoos slide into me the lines of ink extending, flowing, melting and reforming knots from you into me against your back, skin to skin the warmth, the resonance, the taste laying on top of me we are both straight, touching arms and legs together face to face lips inches away, eyes looking into each others
ink seeps in disassembled, reassembled over unending metamorphoses
sculpted in the semblances of a spiral downward rush of carved elations smooth in abstract cool beneath a kiss
touch, feel, flesh, pulse, real
ink seeps in pools and evaporates becoming veiled insanities.
sip a cup of ripples a shiver in the throat yearning claws a gouge into opacity.
The evasive elusive sleep of sleep evading me eluding all attempts to close my mind to the whirrs and clicks of fears and ticks and avalanche of thoughts all uncontrolled and random gripping slipping into angst ripping any chance with dreams unheeded.
Staring at the ceiling listening nothing on the outside turbulence inside resides demanding withstanding all attempts to flick the switch and turn to off this fuzzy noise too loud to hear but always here wanting wanting needing flaunting.
The abrasive embracive a tantrum abusive a scream unrelenting not restive.
Flagrant fragrance descending storm intending omens merging ominous a frisson fusion in air confusion ripples affecting unseen a taste, a sense, an intuit a scent, a closing close a fall into a stillness til everything stops awaiting exhalation impending patination droplets scatter patterns humid passions inborn machinations undeterred a calm becomes a hint becomes collisions of a rage releasing earnest revealing of sweat of blood of purity relief.
Stumbling through the open spaces and voids, an observer, pessimist, drifter, loner, singer, dazed, bemused and slightly frayed around the edges. Made of sand, like mist on a mission, sometimes feeling nothing.
Browse, stay a while, leave a footprint, stand and stare.... take a breath.....
There are times when words won't do, but they may be all we have......
An ecologist, musician, writer, photographer, gardener... rarely all at once.
