a/n: SOC plotted together over a period of time. as you can tell. over all- though- i like the theme it tries to project. cheers?

-

in the aftermath of many a feared thing

we begin our wandering-

with grey clouds sleeping overhead.

weeping, as if they already know our fate.

--

the calloused hands of time

will push the stray strands of hair out of your face

with the air of summer approaching fast fast faster yet

blowing into the space right between your eyes

you wince, instead.

there are warnings that previous tenants have

painted all over the sidewalk

but you,

oblivious you ignore them and walk with your head straight up

careful man on a taut rope, minding the balance.

in the future, i shall leave them at better angles,

if we should become dust

if we should not wake up to see the day
-i don't believe i'll ever find what it is

i have been meaning to say,

choking on the remains of my own human heart

and

we are

left to be frozen,

flies in the amber for scientists to fret over.

history books will never remember us, bother to waste precious ink on our names- we are not of that elite tribe.

we are on our own.

and you shouldn't mind,

after all

i am only a step or so behind.

if this hour-to-hour

kind of thing

is all we ever end up having

scratched out calendars full of missed opportunities

life sliding by like one of the taglines at the movies

"move fast or let it run away."

or the filmstrips of things we will never live

(cheap, disposable, foreign)

driving by on melancholy afternoons that taste like

faintly like

france during the first world war.

or the

sincerest joy i've ever felt

is

the warm feeling in my stomach as i lie

backside in my bed

compared to the stupid chaos unfolding around me

a slow-moving hurricane

but i've got a raincoat for the next few minutes to shield me from the approaching storm,

goofy smile like a sixteen year old on my face.

but

but

but

here it is

i'm afraid this is what we'll ever have

or know.

our atom-like destiny, i wish we could let go.

i'll wait for you. whatever it takes, for you. even if you won't beat like a heart and reciprocate.

meanwhile,

your limp-wristed protégé

rests somewhere, elsewhere

clad with only stitches and a torn negligee-

these things, i've told you before-

i can't blame you for the reasons you have to perform

them

skillfully, suave but unaware

a surgeon shaking with that scalpel in your hand

(and mid-procedure it's not wise to inquire

whose blood? whose blood?)

and

they are pretty good reasons

i'm sure.

assured at the midnight hour. blatant forgiveness, holiest rapture all lies within my power.

your sins are washed away by the gentlest sleet, the pouring rain

and i reckon it gets heavier, still-

shaking hands shaking hands

..only so much time

take my hands

take them.

we are not to be chosen. others are lifted, their souls white and frozen

we are stuck, below. pebbles stuffed under the fast-melting snow.

the world is going to devour us now, you know.

nobody likes a prophet.

so if we should become dust,

if the world is only bound to forget us and

if i am not able-bodied enough

to hold you up

if am to lose you, only to lose you

(and i will take solace in the fact

that i loved you before i lost you

an intangible that just wasn't good enough to make your final cut.)

to the plates shifting below our feet...

in the future, shall we make it past

each other's arms and ear-splitting alarms

(all i have to give you is my bandaged and duct-taped love

like the knees of a five year old. your father's favorite ottoman.

a stifling volcanic fume of a love)

going off into the

charmed crowd, a petty thing

and, last call, of this i'll sing-

when i finally speak your name will be fire

bouncing off the tip of my tongue

lumbering skywards with a thick-headed hope

soaring to disrupt the canopy of clouds above.