There exists a God in your body a deity in you, somewhere All who look upon you, they become detached from what they thought they knew from what they understood before And so begins the free fall… into a deep and glowing love for you
You are a carrier, spreading the seed of this great ailment throughout With each bat of each lash you do and with that smile and slow sure dance your words are bursting in my ears And so begins the free fall… into a deep and shining love for you
Thanks for reading.
Note: written into my phone in a club in Oxford early 2008.
Image Credit: Image is a still from the excellent film ‘Victoria‘ 2015.
Floating through the house all curtains open lit up against the night let the people see what you want them to
Curating the moments, so carefully trucks pass lost walkers returning from the fields catch glimpses see slivers of the character you created
A sensual, lost, bright mind the answer, the home to any lost soul…
Close-up on your pale face painted, pained, so perfectly the precise nature of your openness a second thought and then it’s revised a second thought and something not quite right; vanishes you vanished it
The scene is so moodily affected controlled and filtered so accurately gloomy in brooding midnight An ambiguous painting our eyes can’t help but dwell upon
Seeing all we want to see seeing nothing real
A beautiful, longing, artistic mind a destiny, a home to any lost soul…
Do you remember do you recall who you were before you were the imagined answer before you were the suggested home for all those lost souls…
As the sun slickly slides through a quickly capsizing sky you needle me for taking photographs for wanting to record this way of things Do you not feel that this is temporary Do you believe there won’t be a different way
These are precious moments these are precious moments in our short lives
And with each day that ends I feel a larger ending creeping closer and with each dusk descending I sense a fuller ending edging quietly closer
Remember when you kissed me with passion on a peeling pier by painted boats some Grecian bay, one nameless day I laughed a little, we both did then we felt the twist the sparks of our lives crackling between us the energy of all we were; burning before us
These were precious moments these were precious moments in our short lives
And with each ending day I hear the tune grow with each night that we casually let end I hear the chorus and death death is the only song I don’t want to sing death! death is the only song death is the only song I don’t want to sing…
Acquainting myself with the moon trapped behind glass exchanging glances and on my back a thousand heart-attacks roll past My fingers cross and uncross as she sleeps, so black back in the real world paid-up entirely on her subscription to actual reality
Might you return with a souvenir for me from the envious depths of endless peace perhaps a child or a patient nurse or some control with a button for reverse My fingers press that longed-for switch watch deeds recoil back into the body where I don’t turn that key don’t cross that threshold slipping backwards, contentedly from actual reality
Moonshine lights the shore as I drag the boat of all my swimming thoughts along a silver stretch of sand where all the land behind no longer matters a bowl of sea, insignificantly the only thing between the horizon and me but crossing is possible with the coins that you earn waking night after night and each mile is a measurement you take from actual reality
This father feeling takes over My child in a superposition only alive inside its mother between the hours of two and six AM a phantom haunting, stalking poised with talons drawn to fly this solipsistic me drop him heavily back in the sticky city streets of actual reality…