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nobody tells me what to do with longing
unquantifiable as only the sand is
exulted light dives in my hair
my shoulders are amazed like a cactus flower
your blood self-absorbed rehearses abysmal cascades
tigers are still asleep in your dreams
will you chase the moon on my surface, will you, tell me,
leave your silence on a chair
what if love is this cypher for the mystery of time
what if the pulse is a form of photosynthesis
we have to stay away from any fire since
we would exhaust its thirst
a step into a surreal second that augments me
second after second  the one who loves
disturbes time in its mazing grace
the sky this gestational field
the space between each word a cosmos
a white truth will repeat itself
again and again bearing witness to
life hand in hand with death
Like a moth,
you fly toward the fire,
you’re so close now.
Do you want to warm,
to burn, or extinguish
the light?
Why
“The salt of unrighteous tears”

We balance our hearts on scales
That are void of a truth within
We cross universes seeking
But the formulas of existence
The one’s that make sense of loving something
Fall in between the spaces
That stretch between heartbeats
We weep tears as salty as our oceans
And pray to ourselves
That flesh and love
Swim together
In that sea that knows
Why….
When the clock strikes 12, the world exhales,
And silence spills through shadowed trails.
A hush falls soft on rooftops steep,
While stars begin their solemn sweep.

The moon slips on her silver veil,
A whisper carried by the gale.
Curtains dance to unseen hands,
As midnight casts its quiet demands.

Time bends in that fleeting chime,
A bridge between the day and time
Where secrets stir and spirits wake,
And dreams slip through the cracks they make.

Old wishes echo in the air,
Unspoken hopes, half-spun despair.
A fox tiptoes through garden dew,
The world turns dark, then strangely new.

Lovers kiss in borrowed light,
Owls take flight into the night.
The clock ticks on, a lullaby,
For those who ache, for those who cry.

When the clock strikes 12, beware—
Magic hums through midnight air.
And if you listen close, you’ll hear
The heartbeats of another sphere.
12:00
03/24/2025
At first, time will settle for a minute of your time. But in the end it will claim everything, sans the end. So I sharpen time and run with it. I make it mine to bring to ruin with. I wield it like a sword. I give it out of fear, take it out of regret. I battle and **** for it, hold others hostage with it. Time doesn't want salute or tribute. It wants you to forgot it's there. Just turn your head as it chews the road you built. This non-negotiable is often called the great equalizer. It's my friend until it's not. And I know that day is quickly coming.
From the 'Checklist Before Commencing on a Dream.'

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4793791/checklist-before-commencing-on-a-dream/
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