The air cools.
The sounds change.
The suits and briefcases
scurry to their fortresses
and bolt their doors
and balance their checkbooks and
ignore the screams
and try not to
think about who really owns
Sin City.

Frank Miller

battle not with monsters,
lest ye become a monster,
and if you gaze into the abyss,
the abyss gazes also into you.

Nietzsche

in place of a lovers arms
my words -
thoughts
wrap themselves
tightly
around my body
constricting limbs, mind, and heart alike.
The only subtle movement
a murmur of hidden pulse
Somewhere in my chest
Silent
Beating
Heart.

The longer we stay like this
consciousness and body
the harder it becomes
to move
At all.
The mind numbs itself
memory disintigrates
Longing ceases to exist.
All I have
is Stillness
Within
Without.

playlist three

comptine d'un autre ete: L'apres Midi - yann tierson

draw your swords - angus and julia stone

cold - aqualung & lucy schwartz

only if for a night - florence + the machine

little black submarines - the black keys

post war - m.ward