Thursday, March 3, 2011

If It Were All a Cycle

Whirlwind comma placer,
sleep well tonight and let your
tired head come crashing down
upon my sentiments' wild grace
-let these be your pillowtop and bedspread.
I can only give my wishes and intentions
a bit of passion,
and these few reasons
held between the cracks running
across my hands
-after all I am only a sum of events
a photo of a portrait of moustachioed relatives
and a stargazer.
Seeing as how you are in motion
I have come to terms
that I too am a blur.
Eyes closed shimmering laugh
-it rings within my head
leaving the echo of splendid voice
playing back the song of
a warm inception.
And if that Ubermensch was right,
it will forever be ringing
eternally reoccuring
for the sake of my passion
and the weight on this life's shoulders.
If a demon were to rise
beneath my bed tonight
and tell me each moment
will play itself over and over
as time stretches its fabric
I would not strangle the creature
but pet its head
thinking of the constant laughter
hitting the back of my skull.

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