I am real-agated

A side eye or a momentary caught in the act, perfect timings or a slight of hand. These parallels much like analog telephone lines misfire and misconnect. Hearts emitting radio waves of a language felt by many but heard by few. I cant believe anything you say but in this moment our eyes can only see a waned moon. I navigate through these gusty winds and flashing lights hoping to sail right into you. Ive learned to read people all too well, spend most of my time spectating but please dont get me wrong, Its my innocent curiosities of life that draw me to strangers, a thin gleaming thread of light, I’m a page master, a witch in the night, I dont mind a bit of a fright. Dangerous as it may be to come alive, reveal yourself, thawing mercilessly at the warmth of a well crafted goodbye. 

(I dont do second paragraphs but this is genuinely needed) 
A sweetness in words is a silver coin, heads its a dance one you do alone to satisfy the tide inside yourself wanting to be heard like birds in the evening sun but tails and theres thin ice to this crossing it is a bridge swaying in the distance and you happen to be at two places at once. If I were part of a literary moment id like to be the first one in the audience springing up to give a standing ovation. Thats what attraction feels like to me, a detailed case study of someones cabinet of curiosity. A display of things unseen, private, unique and unkept by many. I know the cost of this “Indiana Nayha Jay Johns” exploration is high and costly but boot strapping and trouble shooting have been a reliable partner for me. Alas, time is not a friend but then again never pay attention to someone who cant keep up with you. Ive recycled through moments rearranging tonality and compassed trails on end to find that a crossing can be between two identical trees or a two way busy street, between grand bazaars labyrinth of shops or two people in a small town. 

I am inked

Winds and waves charcoaled with shame. A forgotten note in your bottom drawer these words are weak sorrowful. Falling drops of icy dreams running through these empty sheets. Hold my hand through this dance, touch of love is all I ask. A nod of kindness even a glassy kiss goodbye. A passing whisper to remember you by. 

Warm glances, smiles understood with the passage of time. Threads of yesterday, a broken stitch between sighs. Ghostly memoire of our misshapen emotions. A broken telephone line ringing loudly like a fire alarm in my mind. This is not a confession its a syphon to entangle my lies. Ive drifted too far maybe too long, calmly motionless in this pool of fear and remorse. Awake through pain in a gloomy left over hope. Open wounds and scabs, my labour of dread overlaps. Staring out through windows, detached from the ground beneath me, I float. The sun and moon waltz while I endlessly wait to cut in for my turn. 

I am wind

I hear the wind she talks to me. Between chirping of birds and behind whipping of trees. She looks back at me revealing herself greeting me softly turning in silences close wisps of breath. Ive called out to her when ive needed company. Shes comforted me, calmed me and folded her arms around me strengthening my muscles pulling me out of wet dirt and clogged gutters of my heart. In darkness she feels like a dim firefly and in light a golden swan gliding past the corner of my eye. Ive run out to her with a heavy heart and teary eyes asked her to reverse my blood and hold together my insides. Ive chanted to her drum and become a part of her rhythm. Whenever we meet she reminds me of the beauty shes leaves behind and the linen of love shes laid down at my bedside. My mother in the wild her face is a thousand moving pictures a splashing of lights. Shell come when you call, follow you length and breathe, inside and outside, a passenger to the outlines of your life. 

I am submerged

Murky glides and hungry drafts of howling spells. Conform to the trenches grit your soul dust off those sheep, a distant voice dews in blue holds you close for a few. You whimper and you claw dare to change those fogged up halls. The moon are many some more dark even more sullen ariels dancing kites mulling under a wet roof of stains. Weary eyed tossed hearing ice smears outlandish under red lust outted shot torn, we this our lost. 

The skies feel closer, hazing at clouds from above feels easier than loving a man deadly rooted to his own dirt. So little windows become home, packed bags feel warmer and the open door a friend welcoming me home. 

I am night sky

My caged heart burst into a thousand butterflies once lying in cold sleep woken by a warm whisper of the north wind. Breathing close and rustling softly keeping me warm under fidget air. Come and go quietly dont let them know how we feel, they mock the writings on my heart, yet you glide through this grime. Windowed into souls and united in step we climb on. Embers and ashes we burn through a millennia of memories. An hourglass we became infinitely balanced between the sands of time. Fleeting and desolate we complete the circle of a life within a few minutes. 

I am evicted

Misshapened and readjusted we follow a thin line of what is due to many. We owe and we borrow what isn't ours to begin with. We are fallen a low to the brink of unknowingness and lofty sadness, we drift. A broken compass and a heavy breeze crossing many trees you are placid among the shivering strings of my heart. Forgotten and corrected this is the last time we chime and chatter walking along that old forking road.

Will we matter. 

Never together older grown dulled with loss a yesterday of hope brought on perhaps by love or by chance i cant tell anymore. So no more sadness and no more chances ill walk this thin line without owing anything to anyone anymore.  

I am disclose

This close to the ever leaning gloom dinning calmly beside these cold bodies. Windows matted down with years of laughter and the salty air hangs still. Overcome you will these painless sighs and formidable glances dormancy clammers. Its foolish i know to spell these tales with no end nor beginnings. You must think I'm wasting your time with these vibratos deflecting fast and colliding with our current state of mind. I apologise for the last time. We've all repeated acts and sang the same chune to relax. Like blacked out poetry we are now trembling voids between facts. Ive done this before and ive been here many time. Ill wreck the garden and mend the fences go back to the old rumble inside. Ill cave for both of us dont worry baby ill be fine. No more goodbyes.

 

I am worn

Incoherent and maligned I've flatlined once on this dead beating drum of mine. Sober for the first time. I see the slow pace comets losing tracks, bending spaces between time. Taxing are these few and far wisps of red smoke inhaling what we've left behind. Foreclosing tabs for soreness stitching us back into a wall of lies. I am a fool to think I'd get this right, a trail of loss lags close behind. Shadows of jagged edges echoes of sharp ends. Shifty brown orbs, your flaming sides, a totem of indignity, fade in my light. And i thought id lost that darkness you brought, I bleached you out, your dirt and grime but you linger still casting ionic dark matter on my life. Dispel. These weighted glances and frowning ceilings cordoning out the world. I am foolish for there is no way out of this graveyard after all.

I am Terrified

Dampness disgust limbed sores dreaded in broken musks whimpering corners of ashes are lined step. Jolting frightening dawns ridden with hollowed out hearts. Our paths are weathered and our lies are glistening with hung far lust. Love terrifies the bravest of us. It twists and hurts jaggedly crackling over the vastness fondling eyes and draped silences. A drift in the widened highways of golden starlit cosmic dust. All hope flashing waste the handles of time wavering the pathways. I get right back up. Wandering ions upon this moment overcome with tricky haste these blue landmines of emotionalism. Balance hithers calmness falls close falters shyly verging in the distance. Forking and derailing heightened assurances preying on the sands of the beaten down. But i get right back up. Forcing through leaded ends swinging on invisible holds yearning and forgetting the pulsing gun. Thawing molten blooming shores celestial ballads glance back. Are the echoes of love posing deadly sought after by believers gather breathing softly together again. 

I am Misgar

Mindful glances and dizzying views these roads are many locking into each other weaving hearts and breaths. Laughter and clatter bemusing trails of wavelengths and faded hues. Lifting spirits and drowning woes the air is heavy colourless and disguised silently behind watching us wander. Lusting heavy are the dark pathways of the night here, casting slumbering shadows over misty eyes. The highs of these scapes are inescapable confronting and decoding our internal muck and grind. The soft dust nestled under each step settles along chanting pebble foes, dislodging and comforting the terrain. What once was oceanic desolation is alive under the sun yet the water flows through bodies molten with red and held together with fluorescent bones. These people shine with glimmering pupils expanding and contracting with the skies above. An urgency in their tone and excitement to be defined by word or banter a gathering of comfortable nomads, there is a home. Beating and thundering to the call of their lives a cycle of mindful glances and dizzying views. Moving across the echo of yesterday, forgotten pathways and frozen rock of another time.