folded

This folded corner, is an ocean of histories, of backwash syntax,
Every night I grasp in seizures of thirst,
Chasing at the empty wanton speed of collapsing neutrino blues,
Trying to preserve my beaches from the sea,
With my thunder nut double dabble knot,

My second cousin third eye school scout,

But the darkness itself is another eye watching me,
And I touch the boundaryless eye,
I feed it my deepest peace,
Trying to preserve the breathless from the sky
(Call it the pain hotel with rooms for everybody,)

I touched every colour of blood,
And the sound of the darkness came out of every rose,
The first one down and the last one to cry,
Learning to sing my own name,
Use myself up saving little hot snakes with broken searchlights,

I touched every corner where I appear and disappear,
In the record keepers eyeglass,
Where there are no traces of the subways sailors,
Just density shifts in the mirror mask,
And rumours of free delivery,

In these corners of vacant cats eyes,
Towers of torrefickla glimmer,
I was the first to test the shiny surface,
The last to find it was a transparency,

So I asked the dove as she dove into the crater,
Did we make some new blood dancing on broken smiles?
She gave me the news and it didn’t even sound strange,
“No, we stole it from the blind without them ever knowing it”
The story was so soft,
I couldn’t take my eyes off her fault lines,
Where the darkness whispers marriage vows between us,
And we take each other drowning in prairies of cryptic criotic cube principles,
Where I can have the riddle all to myself,
And milliseconds no one will notice us forging our initials into the crashing waves,
Our only touchstone of trust, while we dream of the shore,
Proof of each others existence,
Secret keepers of each others shadow,
Import some skylines from the contours of each others hips,
Fragile folding edges of fault lines, salt time themes,

Did we get some new names in the secret sea of worm holes?
Some new balloons singing to the stars?
Some new streets watching the open sky with its promise of redemption in solar winds?
Some new relations falling through the lacunae of slippery similarities of lips?