and as she holds her rosery
I am condemned to her
knowing our truth apart.
because I am outside of you
and the window is quiet in
both of our travels.
The thought of not thinking.
Of you and the thought of
Not writing inside this thought;
Poetry death.
Poetic infidelity poetic
Dreamers are dreaming through
Our nameless thoughts.
Come closer to me and
Hear the senses of our past
Nuanciate with our now.
they all find their reason
on his distracting skies
they all paint their
highs they all paint
their many lives.
and I am powerful and
you are my thoughts.
I am powerful and you
are inside me.
