Good or bad, happy or sad

So long, so dreary, so manifold,

so the colors goes and so it leaks between my toes,

The instance of faces, the perpetuity of eyes glistening out into the fog,

the calm of skin running endlessly along like railroads crossing the universe,

the lips that speak words - exploding stars, the horizon wiped clean over

and over again by your dress,

the fingers that dig into the sand creeping out from the bed,

the fingers point out to a place

where the trees are grey the soil is red and the scent of paper-memories is
stuck to the grass,

There, out there,

out in the distance the children are simply free, whats begun is yet to die, whats dead isn't

really a cloud, just a breeze passing through the last bits of the night,

- point to myriad homes littered ahead - they have carved tables, a gable, a dinner set and a

friend cast in a wool of scarlet - they have a soft numbness, a thickening of the blood, a

blankness resting on the eyelids as frozen pools, a taste of paint from between the shoulders -
a painted quilt for others, for the lovers,

and a window, for the soul to wake,

the feet are dangling in the air, the shoes keep running out from the cupboard,

the moon dangles an asphalt carpet and a lantern, a firefly sits on her hair,

she's on the inside of every dream and on the rim of every day, the sun keeps bleeding out

into her ear, the night takes flight around her smell,

there isn't a shadow I don't bless, isn't a room that's lying dead as a broken screen on the

garbage heap,

Just the impermanence,

the longing holding tight, to the brigade entering the sea, the water nearing the shins,

the world beneath cannot be possessed,

the world above cannot be returned,

Just the beauty and the sadness, slithering as serpents in the sheets.

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