words from a box
| March 8th, 2003your beauty strikes me, slowly
–
as the silence lays between us
like a stillborn child
we created in our
twisted copulation
we both regret our actions
not yet committed
–
hide inside,
try not to wonder
slide on by,
world torn asunder
hold the ground
to keep from drifting
kill the sound
now souls are shifting
–
pressure changes
vision strays from focus
fluctuation, blur and bend
floating soul, can’t touch
the ground
internal waves pixelate
towards edges
where they dissipate
i swear, it feels like
the end of the world
–
withdrawn
without hope of
wonder
withered words
woebegone
waiting while
weeping
–
folding things back
upon themselves
we find a shorter path of travel
a way to connect
without the cause of effect
the Kronal Ojeckal demon slain
we walk through the invisible gates
of eternal light to come out
– indeterminate spacial
occupation, half in the
pool of flesh . . . remainder
still floating on thoughts
of greater nothing, still
burning in ‘void of form’,
blissful slow burn