... But not reason.

I've been told I write like spillage, the ends of which doth fray,
and to make a part of hist'ry, the games of rhyme I play,
I have no inclination, nor talent at this sport,
but hold my fingers, stay my tongue I must for this retort.
Exceptional the window through which I see words in hue,
not brown nor black, nor brighter things, not grey or green or blue,
the colours of this rhyme you'll find, transcend your earthly sight,
unless you, like I, see words as treats, and not as curse or blight.
By now you've read, and of the rhyme, I've broken all the rules,
I've twisted, warped, and snapped the lines, words take us all for fools.
End it soon, I feel I must, for endings make a start,
and in its end, the rhyme goes on, never to depart.
Ha.

Transvector

Ails you, the ground, the floor, the tiny grits beneath your soles
wishing you could but lift a little, lift as you've always wished to
perhaps you need more than what you have
perhaps you are imperfect
or unclean
perhaps everyone else can fly when you aren't looking.
perhaps many things. it does not change the wish, to grab his hand
and rise like two angels in the night.

Impressions

The first time I saw you, nothing happened.
No white bright bolt of thought.
No pull at the midriff, no twang of the synapse, nothing like that.
Lights didn't come on, darkness didn't overcome me, I didn't blush, worry, panic or smile.
In fact I felt vaguely embarrassed about something.
As though I should have washed, or I was not wearing the right clothes. A lot had built up to this.
My mind and thoughts blew apart when I glanced back, and realised how intense your eyes could be.
I saw you the first time.
The second time, I saw more.

Elation Relation

I feel like jumping out a window and becoming the darkness
I feel like making paint and drawing the inside of my mind
I feel like eating pastrami cuz I've never had it before
I feel like putting on all the lights in the house
I feel like shaking hands with a stranger, an acquaintance, a friend, and an enemy, in that order
I feel like a hug
I feel like a human with hands, brain, tunnels, sight and intelligence average at best, but sharp in all directions
i don't feel like capitalising
I feel like tonight might be the best night of my life
I feel like tomorrow might be better
I feel happy, and creative, and flowy, and there are things in my head that are made of all the colours I can imagine, and none I can't
I feel like getting on a train to nowhere and everywhere at the same time
I feel like tea
I feel tired
I feel like I shall go to bed now.

Hmm.

Shut up, brain.
No really. Quiet.
So?
Yeah.
And?
That's not true.
Honestly.
It can't be.
If it was it would make everything that's happened this year completely-
Oh.
Um.
Well.
...
Damn.

Twoo

Owls craft a city made from love
and beaches
and umbrellas
and synth.
That is what they are.
It's a shame most people don't see it.

Tumble

Feelings only read about in books and imagined in measured amounts.
Your mouth finds mine
and you place your hands down
and they rush in at once.
Ah.
This would be it, then.
Roll.
Sigh.
Shift.
Press.
Pause.
Gasp.
And then you are lost to it.
Exultant feelings are shared.
Dominion is won.
A vague feeling passes that redfaced looks and shy conversations loom.
But that is for tomorrow.
Shove.
Press.
Arch.
Lift.
Sigh.
Flow.
And inwardly, you sing.