Wednesday, January 18, 2012

S P E C T R U M



Burnt out pockets of sin
have left us weak and in
a state of delerium that
would envy the ignorant masses.
We cling to each other
like storms on a horizon
full of longing and despair
a horizon built out of
plasticine and merry go rounds
and razor sharp kerosine
with a silent dream machine
gone quiet the day before last
the seconds tick into the past
as we watch our life play
backwards into the infinite
backwards into the time before
innocence was lost and found
and the answer we had sought,
lies painted in the lines we drew
between us as the battle enfolded
“prevention is the best medication”
his whispering lips against my ear
As he lit the match and the fire 
of our future engulfed my fear.