for a beautiful man in comfort and joy. lovely, may you rest peacefully.


the state of things has been moved to
dis
order.
we speak slowly, patternelss
judgments
remembering where you stood
only
days
before.
darling, we ran in parallel lines,
your beautiful timidity
cascading around your face in the
forms of blonde knotted
ropes.
there was a cigarette between my fingers and
you gave a
sigh.
there were moments
around your neck,
moments where i thought of you in
comfort and
joy, and we spoke of cleansing.
there was something in that woman's sobs,
something that spoke your name, the
very same something
drawing salt from my eyes
feeling your presence in a
previously acquainted voice.
your body, dear,
hung by
disorder, and brother, i
loved you.

i realize now,
what footsteps meant in the sand,
how i prayed for rain and looked for you
to run_
you remind me
how connected i feel
i know i thought
but as irrelevance seems to take hold;
we always know hindsight
better than we
realize
we know
ourselves.

there is
trial
in preparation
singing to every new
day,
following rise and fall in
onesweepingmotion. our
breath is
empty with dust
spinning in
ninetydegree an
gles
just to learn about the concept of
death. we are
surrounded by
words;
groups of letters
playing,
mourning,
writhing together
in an expansive sea of sun.
we breathe
beauty.
wrapped in a
cloak of
dust,
the day continues
to move.

in time, it feels like
spinning;
we are
beautiful
beyond words that
not even silence can
sing in tones of justice. we
lose control of our bodies to
stories of drums
pulsing with the blood through our
veins, wind swept tales
waltzing with the ancients and
we learn
just how small it
all
is.
rising the sun over a vast
expansive canvas of
sand,
we are a family of
faithful tradition,
dust-loving
children with
lovely acidic giggles and
neon blood
taunting the sun
with war cries of peace
soaking our skin in our own
salt,
holding eachother as one in
twilight and
pushing back the
dawn.