Dead Sea Scrolls

The things we do to each other. The games we play unaware that they’re the most meaningless things we could ever put ourselves through. Imitations of life. Godless wonders damaged and washed up like a thousand old thoughts. Once so pretty, now just junk. Once so youthful, now a pale shade of a face long since drained of vitality. Still young, but older around the eyes. Flesh beginning to wane, there’s no place to hide and no more chances to escape times grey hand. The city occupies although it’s just the same as everywhere else. When there’s only reflections of yesterday, it’s best to break those mirrors. It’s best to change before it’s too late. Shaped by the past, but never condemned. History makes us, yet it should never destroy. What’s happened exists no more. We take what we want, then we let it go. No longer do those days cripple. It’s up to us to know how much we need it, it’s up to us to take control. Your love is mine, the only difference is that one is known and the other is not. Come peek through the pines and find me whilst I write these words. As storm clouds circle above my head, move your body against mine and sing me a song. I’m not happy, and I can’t quite explain. Maybe it’s the weather. Maybe it’s her smile that troubles me despite all that’s been and gone since she was last here. It’s in the strings that bind us together. Invisible like atoms, more poignant than memory, they keep us close in the face of collapsing universes at the foot of your bed. Lust, bite marks, and magma in your brittle spine. Dead seas of wine that contain every last drop that has ever passed my lips. You swim there just like I. We swim together, like the lovers we once were. Your teeth on mine as the headlights of cars flash past like visions of future sex. We are here. We are angels forever in a touch that will linger on to the death of the very last star. Dazzling so dazzling these expressions will never cease. They are permanence. Reap the brand new day. Beauty so tragic. Beauty as our fingers link for one final fling. Invisible monsters and scenes deleted that haunt my dreams. Faces no longer needed. Opinions that have no consequence. Let them go, and think of them only when you’re feeling cruel.

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