passing cracked and dry over broken fields ripe with ashes under weather of age embering husks of twisted glory. we come from bright skies burnt and embellished leavings of a choking land plated gold to hide the rot. - - The steel beams summon themselves upwards, old iconography, and she breathes, she bends, she breaks, so soft, threaded wire. Signals fly and vanish below oceans of thought, sliding further. Lush and shivering her thought motes come from sky, bound, cast away. Blackness and fraying envelop and smother, slowly, slowly falling structures, and everything she knows drowns in the mist. She goes with it where the mystery lies. - - Chara, won't you lock me away, all of a moment you capture a life in the rain, I didn't know how my body would take to a flash and a fall and a fairy tale My apology waits on the pressing of keys in a pattern so tricky to figure Now tell me you won't be waiting, too In the evening I conquered the cold, came out for the city and its own soft flavor of death I miss a glance at your soul as it dives away, dodges, and flies to me It's been a while since I held your wrist, it's been a while since you took pictures of me on the corner and with all of this still, I say it'll happen again We wander the snow set soundly like mindless little flowers like spirals in a windstorm Just let a little echo slip through, waveform reminders of surface light They shatter, they sway, and I float just along Give me a reason, give back the feeling Dark, willow, soft and musical, Pull the keys, ivory changed to light Give me a new memory Oh, it's been a while since I held your wrist, It's been a while, it's been a while You took my image, took it through It's been a while, in corners now dark, where a cold shaking picture is all we remember of you. - - Scabs and scars everywhere I can touch Give me lights and i will grow with a comparison undeserved underserving floral to mirror into me silver stained scratched open as an airway a wound bleeding body stomatic as mind may be glycerol below and blossom forming, deforming. mirror make me glow again ultraviolet clouded a soft pink touch issues sweetness safe from the bleeding taking in the graceful lights they preserve me as i wither as i scratch and stain reflect those who hold me who water, never pluck. i love them all so much. - - small, small, we stay underneath the concrete, the open gas chamber of echoes and combustion, reminded by our crystal breath and the behemoths of metal that shake it, shake the world, carry death, metal made for death, held up by sand and slick and contract-worker spirit. you have cracked and i am crumbling and there is no chlorophyll in the spaces. doesn't that make you want to drink, or however else we can shrink back away further and be less of a part of anything? ten years since i last had a clean breath, and now all the grime has worked its way long past my lungs, through the blood, and my thoughts are as troubled as a sick smoker's wheezing, and now my mind is corrupt with tar and smog and oil and spite and black powder. yours has been gone. we still walk this road every day, we work, we buy, we vote, and never can I remember why it all felt so so wrong, even as the cries i used to make echo, carried along with those rattling wheels of death. - - Traversion/Constellation Flew the fields in time, stepped for the winding path, there in that day when day fell slow. Say what brightness be, for color with the wind, to marry now a spectrum star: Dance between them yet, the firm and not such meant, as fluid airy nomadry. True to water falls: the purpled rushing grade, a pigment pointed further far, feather slowing still as winter dark in glace, to dim into a dotted night. Wake with holes so bright, so rounding swift and there, a shapely etch in twinkling line. - - A limb lost to sorrow and minding tomorrow, a sightly, a slipping, a mind to go down. Twist to a picture, the westerly fixture of shifting and moving to weep in the light. Down to the barest sign of grace, it rests as a home distant and fading. Cut the gashes open. Cut and feel alive. Choke from the shame of hiding your loss. - - Pieces of porcelain, sweep them aside. Vivid and shining, I picture the lakes in your eyes, A million mirrors to wander, the monoliths marking the way to the basement. Real loving, circled ‘round digital pyres, you're making a ritual from ennui and missed appointments. Dead weight living, still, you take me drowning from a puddle, but you spiral too, your eyes fill with water, we swim dreamily, float on our backs in the pool. A crash rings around here, the world decants here, from RGB reservoirs, cloaks to cover us - a crash rings around here - hold on to me - the shouts, virulent, cutting the ropes anchored and bound, a crash crying out while we blunder on wave-beaten stones, together tied tight through our phones. The meantime neon basement wandering, you've got to escape it, think of your brothers and the candles in their eyes that you love, the picture of you that's more than a reflection, get out on the waters and live a real love. - - I wish you had a way for me to wrap around your lips, and so to make the time away from you a leaf blowing in wind. And will she see the past as more than a reflection of the voice that's sitting up in an apartment making unheard-of noise? Or is this how it ends? A gathering of flame? My posturing does nothing to allay the lovers' wilt, and still I see a place for me and you upon a shelf. Arraigned and tied alone to every whistle of your tune, to float away on future breezes, did your life come to soon? And this is how it ends? The wail of screeching tires? Have you fallen out of style, and into a funeral pyre?