We are

Boundless,

Formless,

Seamless

When we

Breathe in

Unison.

Let's fossilize.

Torrential waves of

Nostalgia thrash on

The forlorn shore

Of by body

Every time

The pregnant moon

That is your mouth

Parts to pour me over

With a kiss.

A ship of memories

Voyages across the 

Tumult of our wreck,

Carry with it

A bittersweet treasure 

Of pleasure

 And pain, heading 

Toward gray oblivion.

A point

Of no return,

Mapped on the sails

Of our combined

Laughter, now

Torn apart by the 

Inevitability of 

The unknown. 

Love isn't always

All consuming and

Overwhelming. 

It can be calm

and strangely serene, 

Like looking up 

At the vast blue sky and

Watching a cloud 

Pass by. 

The cloud isn't 

Permanent; neither

Is your gaze.

All you can do

Is revel in its

Seamless and ephemeral 

Beauty before the

Hungry sky claims

And engulfs it

In its entirety. 

There will always 

Come a time 

When there will 

Always come a time.

How does one procure the ingredients of time without being ravened?

Designation is all that

Separates the sane from

The insane; the

Human condition is

A contradiction to itself.

Let the madness 
And melancholy 
Consume you; colours 
Contribute to chaos

Every neuron that fires

Contributes to the 

Construction of reality; 

Every chemical broken down

To its constituents; flooding 

The catacombs of 

The cognizant brain, 

Simultaneously being deciphered 

And transmitting a cryptic code

That amounts to 

The tesseract of consciousness- 

The biological architecture is

A compromise between 

Fantasy and decadence.

The paradox of being
Human subsumes 
The inevitability of 
Being inhumane.

Our biological architecture is a compromise between fantasy and decadence

Tread tenderly;
Time: 
Traps,
Taunts,
Transcends.

Irrelevance is 
The clock's 
Unsung lullaby.

Existence entirely
Expresses its essence
In episodes.

Language reinforces delusion. 

Genes are whimsical. 

What if a consequence if not a beginning?

I want a thought dictionary. 

Are we
Ever more than
Respiring ruins?

Time
Steals
Itself. 

Perhaps a need is a want in disguise. 

The fate of people Is story, mostly Untold and forgotten- Finally unsung.