mine is an island
surrounded by the sea,
which would one day kill me.
sand beneath me slips time
passing through a bottomless pit,
home suddenly vanishing while I sit.
somewhere though lies
our planet separate but the same,
slowly rebuilding itself came
the life worms we brought,
digging deep without water,
and somehow so much better.
There was light in the middle
And for a long time, I could see.
But curiosity is a creature
that flit at the edges,
compelling me to go further
follow search reach another
In the middle of the road
an hour or so before midnight,
and there's nowhere else I need to be.
Going somewhere in a hurry kept
brushing past my shoulders
while on another's, a hand, levelled
with a one-way sign mocking
the lone cigarette butt swimming
in a puddle of waiting, sending me
back from across the window
to another time of receding lines
in the middle of the road
an hour or so before midnight.
While freedom beneath me slips
and peace flows lapping at my feet,
rain clouds came looming shadowing
my thoughts with scenes of drowning
at the shore of one more wide shot.
So I return, changed, the way you should be.
Or maybe not. It's been too long.
I have to try or die not knowing
what it must be like to live in that sea
where I have learned not to panic.
I shall jump from the cliff with hope,
diving deep into the depths
or crashing against the rocks.
Then sleep before all the fire blew out,
knowing you knew that light dies
one by one in the nightsky.
