Tossing and Tortured 'Till Dawn

I come back to you now, at the turn of the tide.

Sunday, February 27, 2005

This is a night when waterfalls defeat intellects.
Pens duel with keys as candles mark their presence,
known over lamplight, quiet warmth and hypnotic gaze.
Soft melodies running in circles, running in circles, into
circles into spirals out of ears, out of ears and back,
through lips and tongue and teeth into,
into my head, into my head, running in circles.

Eyes bid me forget, hot sand and cool sliding,
Muscles protest with pulsing blood,
Reflexes prepare while mind denies.
One is sleeping, the other is green,
One's unaware, but the other, the other,
Crimson through the shuttered spheres,
A single nod -- he knows, he knows!

Pouring through funnels, coursing down runnels,
The shutters are creaking, but the sand, the sand,
Wordless and swift, a glimmer or glimpse
Black within brown within white striped with red
Dissonant chords, they are playing, are playing
Breaking the circles, spilling the smoke
Untethered, it is rising, it is rising; that sound!

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