We could bathe
In physical truth
                                    Perhaps we do
Neat or distilled
Drip fed
              Like water
In its any forms
Placeless on periodic table

Truth softened
                          In our fragility
        Hardened
                          By others resilience

Worn by the face of a manikin
        At peace within the world
        If that’s what you wish it to be

Dear Diary

                     It’s not my fault

It’s easy to render
Myself a victim
Driven by consequence
                                    
Accountability
Sheds daily
                    Like skin
It silently falls

Perhaps I shall erase
My cuttings of
                    Foregone conclusions

They surround a
Diary full of days
Each encircled
                    By failure of others

Each balloon in my room
Carries a captive thought
The type of which remain
                                         Dominant
                                         Predatory
Paced
Head below shoulder
Eased only by a need
To sway
                    On un-retracted claw
Each anxiety  
A cord of attachment
Each balloon
Led to an open window
                                   One by one
Released to navigate the planet
Lest they stay
To circle the world
                    Inside my head

You stroke my hair
Whilst I smooth the flesh
                  That without muscle hangs

Outside the clouds
Turn into a landscape
Obscured by haze
                                     In that moment
I forget the fading time allotted to us
And the reality
Of both our consequences

I ask
You say
                              “I’m not sure”
Like the moment
Before it snows
Or nights spent
Searching for Venus
Without clarity
Through naked eyes

You knew she lay secluded
In a room unused
But still said
                                "I’m not sure”

There she wore a pendant
Engraved   “keep out” in braille
I didn’t feel it
We never touched
Venus dims
You won’t speak
Words from within
I ask
You say
                                “Are you sure”

There is a condition
Adjacent to fear
But beyond its boundary

A place so close
That you
May drown in the awareness
Of survival

A point in time
Where you
Await the Caiman to close
Their eyes

Each time I think of you
It is as if

               I call down the moon
               To frame your silhouette
               Embraced by another

It is as if

               The four winds
               Shall burn us both
               With the jealously
               Born from my nature

It is as if

               Each composition of
               Scented dialogue
               Withheld from my eyes
               Became a letter
               Of indiscretion
                              Unleashed upon the world