It's a cheat, O, yourn beat

When night comes bearing the darkness of another silent, empty street, thoughts careen about mountain roads, I can hear the engines, headlamps through a mist of winged wreckage, the yowling wind of parted memory, a dusty bottle of stale and shaken fizz.

So wounded when I caught that eye, one can see the reel so clear in backpedal!  It was like coming home, like a flavor in the pot I could never quite repeat.  A fawn in a meadow of doubt I daren't touch for fear an apparition.  Jointly but for a breath, a sip of air, and it'd gone.  Like a dream, I awoke there, mad with the fever of my nakedness, those lips a drunken smoke, something I craved between my brow, two eyes that glistened, unhindered, like water gulped from it's source.

My ears ring with a silence, too prideful to speak it.

words belong alive. none belong to me!

to know that what is impenetrable to us really exists, manifesting itself as the highest wisdom and the most radiant beauty

but such is the irrisistible nature of truth, that all it asks, and all it wants, is the liberty of appearing

behold, kind dreamer, examine thy pillow