The dead of night holds a comforting scarf around my outstretched neck. Not unlike an invited noose pointing me down lightened channel, giving me release in lieu of a hall pass. But i stay within the tightropes measure, feeling the significance of each precarious, isolated step. The bounce and flex of the tether, the sweet sway of mortal tension. The air weighs on one side of my staff while memories dressed as feathers play the counterweight. So i dream while walking as that alone allows me to exist.
...echoes of past souls once cherished now scream silent operas of brittle thoughts and tethers withered by neglect...
...muted promenade and a hint of Bizet causes longed desires for cobblestone and dark eyes...
...memories by lamplight seem dimmer than the embers of fingertips upon my palm....
...in the neverworld i sit among familiar spirits and converse with the night's voice floating upon air...
...a drought came at four a.m...
a lonesome pathway longed for crisp footsteps to tickle it's back... i obliged the request hoping for conversation as payment...
...questions of tomorrow's touch and the figure that will caress my neck and whisper silence into a spinning mind...
...like wings of wax, i build and caress shapes destined to melt away as they reach celestial heights....
i have chosen night as the evening's mistress...
i give in to the soundless whispers upon my cheek and throw back my head to accept stillness as mere foreplay...
... i wait in silence... i dream of heaven and also places that exist...
i turn my palms toward the east and refuse to look back for fear of a salted death...
i walk while breezes slice around me... courting the chill along side my thoughts...
...my tongue feels as if it will never speak again, never speak with a realized spirit again...
...sitting for a moment, my eyes are deceived; rabbits holes appear under park benches as i pull the witches truth serum from under my coat....
i follow a cat in ghostly robes through the door reflected in the night's nearby rainpuddle...
...i fly through the veins of shadows and clouds with newly formed wings made from branches and memories of past loves...
..and the lamplight screamed bright silence as not to disturb my momentary ascension...
...but the fading inevitably begins once more....
...and the vines of an encumbered life grab hold of my tongue and wrists and twist until lemon juice seeps from my eyes...
...i see myself from below the rain puddle and from between the tree bark... and the forest of thoughts begin to thicken once more...
...and i scream as the grey returns like a familiar breeze from an unhappy holiday...
...but the thoughts remain... though only smudges along my neck where wet kisses used to dance...
... i watch two trees, dancing with an unapologetic amorousness; so captive and splendent...
...i think of you sometimes...
...my wonderland... my fading Shangri La...it was only a moment... a blink of the night's eye...
...but it was a cherished departure, a beautiful distraction in my world of the living grey.