Oiled in sunscreen
Weak and bleak
Under the unforgiving sun
The death of stars above me
Yet malnourished
In green and white
I had forgot
Or i never knew at all
That this was the gift of light
Words bleeding into paper
bleeding into me
Scentences like ribbons
Each delicate, and each a sensation
This overwhelming miss
Slip of the wrist
Could have not happened all along
But then I would never know
that this is the source
This is the great tap root
The beacon
The god and the altar
Like glistening pearls on a shore
(The flame in my soul?)
The world is my rosary
I count all that I love, bind it up in colourful cloths and fabrics
With memories made into syrup
Sticky like honey to the/on paper
Golden/gold*?
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