Tenderness breathes somewhere within mechanical animals.
All hope is lost, the world ends,
and only in that moment when
it feels just right
does the sun implode from within and cease to shine,
cease to intertwine with fluctuating, reluctant life.

Love screams for attention... look at me, stars, look!

I imagine the end of days as the beginning of nights.
The crabs lay their eggs in the sand, and,
the petals open their legs
to the stars whose black holes
thrust them into the unknown knowing so many
and many, and many, years before they broke their molds.

The universe as we know it was, is, and isn't long before we know it.
It is already dead, already reborn,
and only one tree survives
nuclear explosion
in deep midnight, after sunrise, years before the thumbs' sight
comes to absolutely no conclusion

for there is none, nothing, noone undone.
Tenderness sighs a cold whisper nothing from our eyes,
but a well laid touch between two lovers collapses worlds and bleeds new ones.

05/16/2007