...please please please...
hurry, soon the light is spent...
weep, weep, weep...

...black…

Fade slowly into darkness and cry…

Cry for me, be what you want to be… slake the thirst that parches the throat of our skies….

Be the god that wanders the oceans of our longing… the deity to which you must never pray… never pray for me…

Fill the empty spaces of the colonnade doomed to die, tell the tale of blind men’s empty eyes…

Weep in black, fill my darkness with a new night… take the empty ink in my soul and make it immortal, fill the silence with tears… see the light that is not there, take the hand bound to flight and cut it open to find your wings…

I am waiting, just waiting…

The sunlight that blinds the deaf to music, singing slowly of the darkness in death that I find in your eyes, the slight pin points of eternity far away: the words you never speak…

weep…

Burn me, sun: I long to die in your heat, embrace me with flames and let me burn… let the ashes fly and make a broken crust on the ocean, swallowed up by the suck of the tide, tumble, spiral down into darkness and fade into the untouched sands at the bottom of eternity…

…be…

Let the music fade and die into the skies, be reborn in the arms of death and sing forever so I may not hear, let it float past the past and sing of the future that is dead, tell the present it is spent, break the dreams you doomed to die, …

…we…who are about to die… salute you…

Never stop singing the song of the moon, scream forever of her soft cruelty and hard injustice, never cease to burn, slowly tortured to a broken, white, burned shell of bone…

it is not what I want…

Does she know what I want? The bleached skies of her domain, the pale moon in the skies of faded blue… is there anything she can know so far away, my mind…?

...so far from my heart…

Would it always have been this way… could you always tell what colour my eyes were not stained with…

…with what’s not there…

Slanted, slanted lines… slanted, slanted lives… far remote it is from you, the living death of warm spring… the crunch of gravel as the crow cries for me, and every contour as sharp as its groan… death in every shadow… faded meaning from this world…

you know not of what I speak…

…naught…

Let the birds sweep and die above me as they launch down from the air and whisper of the wind between their feather…

…let…

…go….