Freudian slip,
A sudden change
of tone.
A sudden word,
action.
A notice
A note,
A song,
A look,
A laugh
One sends stars to kiss our toes
And the grass to whistle in our hair
A tilt.
A time,
A guild
Guilt.
To touch a butterflies wing to your teeming brain
To illuminate that sweep to the portal
To reach
To run so far into a search which has no end
or an immediate wall
Your feet are moving
But the dust doesn't stir
But your in a dessert
And allow yourself in this blaze to be happily torn apart peice by piece by this beautiful imagery of our own perfect veneer's guise
Tear down this house
And I will just reap the foundations, build a sandcastle on the sea because.
That is just what we do.