The Winds of Hours

[i am awash in the wrongness of this
your vagrant fragrant skin
your hair like lace
i am trapped in
your spider-strong web
your lips and your words
you are life]
a quiet breath fails to compete with the winds of hours which carry through the ages and across the earth they crumble empires and stop the hordes of madness there is little to do in the face of comfort when i feel as though i can bare my heart and put it to the grindstone there is truth reality is awakened existence is paramount my senses spark with unusual clarity
[the late night
early morning
conversations heal and
the back seat of the car
the faux leather
the heated sweating skin
is what you say you are living for]
the winds of hours fail to compete with the brush of eternity in the hourafterhour and the nightafternight there is a forward and backward learning and living when everything is connected we feel holistically intertwined but there can be no other way when every moment bathes in the perfection of permanence
[i am awash in the slipstream
your every touch is catharsis in
the wilderness brought on by wild
brushfire]

(copyright a(scetic)verse)