WE'RE ALL MAD HERE.
Well if you can hear me, what did I say? He followed me under, under and he went away. And I said look at the time. Look at the time it is now the hour of a tar kissed flower blooming underneath the purple splotches of our skin--the lips and hands and fingertips blackening lids bluing to the color of a bruise. He followed me under the ground. I prayed to the place where I left him there. On my knees I spoke to the earth and I said: If you can hear me; what do I do? Can you hear me? What did I say? Echo, repeat it back to me. . .
We danced under spotlights blazing burning iridescent in our eyes. We waltzed on a dangerous line and the tight-rope was too tight . . .
Well in circles now we move, entranced inside my memories, a boy who was so beautiful, locked inside the cage of my fantasies. . . Do I remember or ignore? Did I ever see the boy, or is too a part of me?
You turn so slow. Treading underground. You've gone so low. The old bones are the roads you walk upon, right under me, but I can barely hear you, when you speak. . .
I got down on my knees by the open mouth staring into the darkness. Infinite like a coin dropped into the channel that spirals and never ends. There was a staircase, and it would lead me to you; if only I just had the courage to go there alone; to find you and seek you, hide you inside me and bring you back to the surface. Do you sing to me? So far down. Do you still go on singing? Am I the rose for you now? Do flowers bloom in that darkness?
I would travel so far to seek you out. If you ever were real-- if I wasn't only dreaming. . .
Of you. Of a boy who turns in circles and never stops, never dances by himself, beautiful and loved; is he now?
Can you hear me? Whisper softly. Can you hear me? What am I saying?
Echo, repeat it back again.
1/10/06
We danced under spotlights blazing burning iridescent in our eyes. We waltzed on a dangerous line and the tight-rope was too tight . . .
Well in circles now we move, entranced inside my memories, a boy who was so beautiful, locked inside the cage of my fantasies. . . Do I remember or ignore? Did I ever see the boy, or is too a part of me?
You turn so slow. Treading underground. You've gone so low. The old bones are the roads you walk upon, right under me, but I can barely hear you, when you speak. . .
I got down on my knees by the open mouth staring into the darkness. Infinite like a coin dropped into the channel that spirals and never ends. There was a staircase, and it would lead me to you; if only I just had the courage to go there alone; to find you and seek you, hide you inside me and bring you back to the surface. Do you sing to me? So far down. Do you still go on singing? Am I the rose for you now? Do flowers bloom in that darkness?
I would travel so far to seek you out. If you ever were real-- if I wasn't only dreaming. . .
Of you. Of a boy who turns in circles and never stops, never dances by himself, beautiful and loved; is he now?
Can you hear me? Whisper softly. Can you hear me? What am I saying?
Echo, repeat it back again.
1/10/06