dear reader,
'there's one at the door
and there's room for one more
until the end of creation
there's room for one more
there's one at the door,
at the gate to damnation
is it thief, thug or whore?
there's one at the door
and there's room for one more 'til the end of creation.'
no body
where’s my body
whose body
no body
remind me once more-
do seeds dream of leaves?
hope comes after the dark at the end of everything
hope trumps
I woke up in a room I didn’t recognize
I looked to the faces that you had seen me through
I hope you find your name
When in doubt go formless:
as a passenger in your mind's eye
alongside you
formless
endless
as us
can you feel me?
and i'll never stop
because
what's four years to a tree?
roll up your sleeves
ironed sleeves
rolled up
folded up
with crisp
intentional lines
at the precise length
housing comforted confidence
roll up your sleeves on the shirt of kindness
and let’s fuckin kill this disease
that's been set loose
to infect
is truth born of hope,
or is it the other way around?
remind me once more-
there's hope at the door
at the gate to damnation
until the end of creation
there's hope at the door
and there's room for one more
there is hope at the door
at the gate to damnation
until the end of creation
there is hope at the door
do you think seeds dream of leaves?
There’s a part of me that feels as though I’ve transcended time
I don’t think I could admit that to anyone but you
we can not put the fire out from inside the house
we need the wind between the worlds
do you think seeds dream of leaves?
do you think the veil could be any thinner?
as a hand to grab
and a body to hold
when you might fold
there is a hand to hold
the sleeves we must fold
there is room for one more
another hand to hold
until the end of creation
do not fold
as a cracking of your choosing,
with a knock at the door,
with hope at the end of everything,
