To the door, one step forward.
The air smells like tangerine and moss.
Where nothing is ugly, we delight.
Memories of cheer glitter like gold.
To the door, an invitation to feast.
The bodies of wonderland enter.
Soft whispers, loud thumping, happy!
Everyone is lost in the so-called revelry.
To the door, it closes tightly.
We secretly share the lights and colors.
Thousand smiles,thousand sighs.
Our heaven is here, perpetually.
I mend the road that’s
forsaken, the details of
the ghost town is opaque.
It makes me grip to strange
times of solitude and panic.
You’re the next to fly.
Above there, where the horizon
Moving from east to west,
turning from left to right,
there’s no more hesitation.
I’m old, generic,
a wanderer whose
feet always find
pathways to enchantment.
I’m a complicated
pieces of a puzzle,
a chain of many chains,
un-linked to the others who
are waiting for me to arrive.
And the stars are left out there,
isolated far from the prancing us.
The evening is a dark pit of thumping,
there is delight, there is a force of
You touch me by
your crimson hands.
What went wrong was
not your fault, was not
remorse that wrecked you.
In the days when things
were unsure to explain why
bad circumstances led to disconnection,
you broke out from existence,
stripped from the channel, and