A thousand miles of burning sand and well lit days run through my fingers like so much time. Time equality is intrinsic to sacred, a sanctity ....Hallowed be it and so it is and so on
A hope and an undying dream, devotions ramble follow and falter across my tongue
In the well lit night I breathe in silence the feelings of coming undone and hold terror at being locked in by four walls at bay while he calls me in images soft and hard and sweet.
Another hope, another dying day the sands burning through the sleep that is coming in undulationg waves for me, burrowing away in hidden veils of heaviness falling over my unflinching eyes, in steel resolution, he labours and I wait
In judgement and doom suprising sounds of etheral mutterings keep the dogs at bay, the drones are coming for us he whisphers to me , his breath is angel kisses and life a warding of doom
the deprivation haunts me still stinging and comfortless the scorpion that hides in the the pillow that cradles my nights
Ignorance and conflagration am i? is he? are we? coming undone out from under or are we already as such?
urgency and flights and endless cessation of hot and stagnant nights finds me feeling lunatical, in brief summation, are our lives nothing but a meaningless juxtaposition for a seeming endless parade of parodies who haven't wings but wish to fly?
I roll over in my bed, in my room, where I simulate cool nights and envision the hot sands running through my fingers and cooling and enlivening my mind.