To leave...

...everything behind
To touch
...everything blind
To know
...the mind's unkind
To hear
...the moment unwind

Image of black

Tethered to the fabric of my soul is the image of black
From what I imagined it struck me as the fibre of a sack
The flourishes are the finishes of the monumental soundtrack
Of me riding into the endless on horseback

The Reverse

The reverse is happening, all that I thought was happiness has been turned on its head, now I can see only disarray, a sort of incomplete person, I have been handed the short straw, the time for the big comedown is here and I am spiralling downwards into that mammoth corporate machine, I cannot feel my hands anymore, its funny I thought I had hundreds of them. Its all over. Almost...

There is only seeing

The seers look at the trapeze-shaped diagram of a heart
Its countoured edges revealing very little colour
Finding countless ways of shaping the start
Of a new beginning, a revolution, a power

They see the light as the world winds its way into their eyes
Sore as the culture's beacon lets movement in
The only way to walk is forwards negating any possible cries
Ribcages torn apart bringing in the end of their kin

The landscape making funny shapes in their plate
Countenance and perseverance all things of the past now
The faces play the number game, one to zero, a finite fate
The machinery's inner system blown to a terminal vow