Saturday, January 19, 2013

dear A,

you are the fissure between two eternities:
an intermission between plays,
a deliberate comma between protracted phrases that had
long since lost their meaning.

in your arms time wilts, shrivels and dies.

and in this stretch of timelessness,
we are expanding bodies of nebulae,
fed and sustained on the delusional idea of each other.

but this will never be enough.
and we will always be incorporeal.
and we will never be complete.