|
The sacred and the scared align and |
|
call on me to break the ballerina's spine. |
|
My heart has fallen where he lands, when |
|
he lands. |
|
The sound of every word you said hit |
|
like a wave of infra red... I'd really like |
|
to stay but I've got to go home, alone. |
|
Summer came and summer went while |
|
we contrived to re-invent the scene serene. |
|
The sound of every word you said hit |
|
like a wave of infra red ; I'd really like to |
|
stay... |
|
Frosted glass the window stains your |
|
face and shattered ice becomes kaleidoscopes |
|
of colour, taste and sound and turns the |
|
ground into the liquid of the sea, the |
|
liquid friction of the see-saw swaying, |
|
drugged among the shards of splintered |
|
snow to where the ultraviolet rays stain |
|
the whiteness of your skin where wheels |
|
of white light shine and spin towards the |
|
essence of the end, then re-beginning |
|
in slow-motion... slow-motion... |
